I did not move.
“I wasn’t,” he said.
“No.”
Elias raised his face again.
“No, you weren’t.”
The woman in the corridor had begun to cry. She did it soundlessly, one hand covering her mouth.
Elias glanced toward her.
“My wife drove me here. I haven’t been behind a wheel since that morning.”
Noah looked at him. “You should drive.”
Elias stared.
“Not the flatbed,” Noah added. “Not yet. But something.”
“I don’t know whether I can.”
“People keep making me try things I’m certain I can’t do.”
A faint movement touched Elias’s mouth. “Do you resent them?”
“Constantly.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
Small.
Unsteady.
Human.
It changed the air.
Elias leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
“The company has accepted responsibility for the failed restraint. I know compensation won’t restore anything. It won’t give you back the weeks you lost. It won’t erase what happened.”
“No.”
“But you should not have to worry about treatment. Or income. Or whether this ruins your work.”
“I own the yard,” I said. “His wage claim is being handled.”
Elias turned toward me.
His gaze dropped briefly to our hands, then returned to my face without surprise or discomfort.
“You’re Reid.”
“Yes.”
“Mara told us his partner had been here every day.”
