Not his face.
The certainty of him.
I had believed the green light belonged to him because some part of me knew that if there was a path into the dark, he would take it.
I woke with his head on my chest.
That was new.
His body stretched along mine, one arm heavy over my waist. His beard scratched the skin above my heart. His hair had fallen across his forehead.
He looked younger asleep.
Less guarded.
I moved my fingers through his hair.
Reid stirred.
His arm tightened.
“Head?” he murmured without opening his eyes.
“Fine.”
“Pain?”
“One.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Memory?”
“Still there.”
His eyes opened.
Fear flashed in his eyes before he hid it.
I touched his cheek.
“It isn’t hurting me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
He searched my face.
“That song—”
“Not today.”
“We can remove it from every device.”
“No.”
