My body relaxed before I told it to.
Reid’s chin rested against my hair.
“You all right?”
“Yes.”
I breathed him in.
Cedar dust.
Rain.
Soap.
Something metallic from the workshop.
The smell had become part of how I recognized safety.
“You can hold tighter,” I said.
His arms closed more firmly.
My forehead rested beneath his jaw.
The world narrowed to the shape of him.
No hospital.
No missing years.
No questions.
Only the steady rise of his chest and the strength he gave without making me feel weak for taking it.
When he loosened his hold, I did not release him.
“Not yet.”
“All right.”
He waited.
After another minute, I stepped back.
“You make that work too well.”
“What?”
“Holding me.”
“I have practiced.”
“With me.”
“Only with you.”
Heat rose beneath my skin.
