His hand paused.
He could have contradicted me.
He did not.
“I believe that you feel it.”
I waited.
“That feeling is real,” he continued. “It is also not a complete description of you.”
“What is?”
“Impossible to fit into one morning.”
“Try.”
He kissed my hair.
“You are the reason Ferry Four passed inspection without another day in the bay. You caught Owen’s load calculation last week. You made dinner twice. You helped Theo understand how a navigation light works using a salt shaker and two forks.”
“That was not elegant.”
“He understood.”
Reid drew back.
“You are working. Healing. Loving me. None of those things become meaningless because you need a handrail.”
My eye burned.
“Some days I don’t feel strong.”
“Then don’t.”
His answer surprised me.
“You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to hate the cane. You’re allowed to wake sad for no useful reason.”
His hands slid to my shoulders.
“But tell me. Don’t sit alone in the dark deciding I deserve someone else.”
I looked at him.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not telling me to be grateful.”
“I am not suicidal.”
A laugh escaped me.
It hurt my head.
I laughed again anyway.
