Page 111 of Falcon’s Forever

"You keep getting hurt," she says.

"Occupational hazard."

"That's not funny."

"Wasn't really a joke."

Her thumb brushes once over the edge of the cut near my temple. “You scare me.”

“I don’t want to,” I say quietly.

“I know.”

Neither of us corrects that one this time.

She lowers her hand, and the absence of her touch feels colder than the wind.

“I’m not ready to pretend everything’s fixed,” she says.

“I don’t want you to.”

Her gaze holds mine. “I’m starting to trust you again.”

The admission lands somewhere deep. “Okay.”

Her eyebrows lift. “That’s all?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” she admits.

“Then okay is the safest thing I’ve got.”

She laughs softly.

“Can I touch you?” I ask before I lose my nerve.

Something shifts in her expression. It isn’t fear. It’s something deeper than that.

“Yes,” she whispers.

I move slow, my hands settling at her waist, not pulling her, just resting there. She exhales, and closes the last bit of distance herself, forehead against my chest, hands settling against my sides. There’s no desperation in it, no need to turn it into more than it is.

I hold her. That's all.

"I missed this," she says, quiet.

"So did I."

"You used to hold me too tight."

I loosen my arms right away.

She laughs against my shirt. "I wasn't complaining."

"Make up your mind."

"I'm complicated."