But Reid was not a wall.
He was a man who had been standing because I needed him upright.
I crossed the kitchen and wrapped my arms around him from behind.
He stopped.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
My face rested between his shoulder blades.
“How are you?”
He turned his head slightly.
“I’m fine.”
“No doctor answers.”
His body softened.
“Tired. Happy.”
“Anything else?”
He thought.
“Still unsettled from yesterday.”
“Me too.”
“Do you regret going?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.”
I pressed my mouth against the back of his shirt.
“Turn around.”
He did.
I opened my arms.
Reid stepped into them without hesitation.
That mattered.
His head lowered to my shoulder.
My arms closed around his back.
The first time I asked him for a hug after the accident, he had held me as if every broken place could be kept from falling apart through pressure alone.
Now I tried to do the same.
