Page 119 of Grim

“You’re not broken,” he said quietly. “Just healing.”

Grim walked them to the porch.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving him and Stone alone on the front steps. The evening air was cool, the sky dimming to a bruised purple.

Stone didn’t speak at first. He just looked at Grim — really looked — like he was reading every crack in him.

“You’re not sleeping,” Stone said.

Grim didn’t bother denying it.

Stone crossed his arms. “You’re carrying too much alone.”

Grim’s jaw flexed. “She needs me.”

“She does,” Stone agreed. “But she also needs you steady. And you’re running on fumes.”

Grim looked away, hands flexing at his sides. “I can’t lose her again.”

Stone’s voice softened. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you,” Stone said. “And I know her. She’s stronger than she thinks. And you…” He paused. “You don’t burn the world down, Grim. You outlast it. And you’ll outlast this too.”

Grim swallowed hard. “I almost didn’t get there in time.”

Stone stepped closer. “But you did.”

Grim’s breath shook.

Stone lowered his voice. “You love her.”

Grim didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Stone clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm, grounding. “Then don’t run yourself into the ground trying to be perfect. Just be there. That’s what she needs.”

Grim nodded once, throat tight.

Stone squeezed his shoulder. “We’ve got your back. All of us.”

Then he walked off the porch, joining the others at their bikes.

Grim watched them ride away, engines rumbling into the fading light.

When he stepped back inside, Sophia was still on the couch, knees drawn up, blanket around her, eyes tired but softer than before.

She looked at him like she wasn’t sure she deserved him. He looked at her like she was the only thing he’d ever choose.

And for the first time since he’d carried her out of that cage, the space between them didn’t feel like a wound.

It felt like a beginning.

Grim’s throat tightened.

Sophia stood slowly, her eyes finding Grim’s across the room.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” she whispered.