We let her walk a little this time, just enough to give her that sense of control she’s still holding onto, just enough that she doesn’t feel completely managed.
But we don’t give her enough space to hurt herself.
Not even close.
By the time we get her into the bedroom, I can already see the fatigue settling into her, the way her shoulders drop slightly, the way her body starts to give in.
“Bed,” I say quietly.
“I was already planning on that,” she murmurs, a faint trace of humor in it.
I almost smile.
We settle her carefully, adjusting pillows, positioning her so there’s no strain on her side, no pressure where there shouldn’t be, everything deliberate, everything controlled.
Jackson pulls the blanket over her, tucking it in with an ease that feels instinctive now, his fingers brushing lightly over her hair.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Comfortable?”
She nods.
“Yeah.”
Elijah is already on the phone again, pacing slightly now.
“I want eyes on the street,” he says quietly. “Everything.”
His voice lowers further, too low to hear properly, but I don’t need the details. I know what he’s doing.
“I’m going to make you something to eat,” I say, stepping back.
She looks at me.
“You don’t have to—”
“I do,” I cut in gently, not harsh, not forceful, just certain. Her expression softens slightly. She doesn’t argue.
“I’m serious,” she says instead, her gaze moving between us. “You don’t need to be here every second. What about practice?”
The word lands. Sits there. Ignored for just a fraction too long.
“Everything’s handled,” Elijah says without looking up. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Her eyes move to me.
“And you?”
“I’m exactly where I need to be,” I say.
And I mean it. There’s no hesitation in it. No conflict. Just truth. Because somewhere between losing her and getting her back, something in me settled.
The pull that used to exist, the constant split between what I was supposed to be doing and where I actually wanted to be, it’s gone.
I already chose. I just didn’t realize it at the time.
I step into the kitchen, everything exactly where I left it this morning, clean, organized, ready.
I move automatically, putting things together without overthinking it, something warm, something easy, something her body won’t have to fight.
