“More than twice.”
He lifted his face.
“I choose you every morning.”
The words struck so deeply that I could not answer immediately.
Noah studied me.
“Too much?”
“Never.”
We slept close that night without asking for anything beyond closeness.
Elias and Miriam arrived the next morning at ten twenty-five in a faded silver sedan.
Elias stepped out first.
He wore clean jeans and a pressed shirt that did not suit him. Miriam came around the car carrying a paper bag and a small wooden box.
She was compact and silver-haired, with direct blue eyes.
“You must be Reid.”
“Yes.”
She shook my hand.
“Elias talks about both of you.”
Her husband looked embarrassed.
Noah came from the workshop using his cane instead of the chair.
His gait remained uneven, but he moved with far more confidence than the last time Elias had seen him.
Elias stopped breathing.
“Noah.”
“Hello.”
“You’re walking.”
“Mostly.”
Emotion tightened Elias’s face.
He looked down.
Miriam rested a hand against his back.
Noah stopped in front of him.
“You can look at me.”
Elias raised his head.
