“They make me sick,” she says.
I check my phone. “Fuck them.”
She blinks. “Peopling is so simple for you, isn’t it?”
I shrug. “I try not to put effort in things that don’t return the investment.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I know.”
She tries to step over a branch, but it catches her foot, and she stumbles. I move before I think, catching her elbow before she can fall to the ground.
“Shit,” she mutters, testing her ankle.
I’m already kneeling beside her. “Let me see.”
“No.”
“Tessa.”
“I said no.”
“You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.”
I ignore her and reach for her foot. She jerks, nearly hitting me. “Stop touching me.”
I look up. Her chin trembles. There’s panic in her eyes, but not the kind pain causes. It’s the kind that remembers.
Her breath catches, uneven, and she lowers herself to the grass, wincing as she moves. Her hands shake when she pushes her hair out of her face. A single curl sticks to her lip, and I have to clench my fists to stop myself from brushing it away.
She keeps her eyes down. “You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Swoop in. Take control. Like I’m just another problem to solve.”
Her voice cracks at the end.
“When I didn’t swoop,” I say quietly, “you disappeared.”
The air between us shifts. Neither of us speaks. Her throat moves as she swallows, and when her eyes finally lift, I stand and hold out my hand.
She hesitates, then takes it. Her fingers are cold, her pulse fast against my palm.
I steady her, one hand at her waist. She exhales shakily, the sound too close to a surrender.
We start walking again.
Slower this time.
Together.
But not really.
* * *
