Page 40 of Huck Frasier

“Both.”

I pressed two fingers to her wrist. Heart rate fast. Skin cold. “You’re going into shock.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “We got the kids out.”

“You’re not fine, Marley.”

She gave a weak smile. “But I’m still here.”

God, she was driving me insane.

I stripped off my jacket and grabbed the med bag. She tried to sit up, and I pressed a firm hand to her shoulder.

“Don’t move.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t move,” I said again, this time quieter, fiercer.

She blinked at me, surprised by the crack in my voice.

“You could’ve died.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve. And I—” I had to stop. Swallow. Breathe.

Her hand found mine.

“Frasier,” she whispered, “I wasn’t trying to be a hero. I was trying to be enough, to kid those kids out.”

“You’ve always been enough.”

Her eyes filled, lashes clumping with tears she didn’t bother to blink away.

“I was so scared,” she said. “Not of dying. Of leaving you.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

“I know.”

I pulled her against me as gently as I could, her head resting against my chest. She was trembling.

“I can’t lose you,” I murmured into her hair.

“You’re not going to.”

“You don’t get to promise that.”

She pulled back, fingers grazing my jaw. “Then let me promise this—I’m not running anymore. Not from you. Not from myself.”

I closed my eyes. Pressed my forehead to hers.

“I need you,” I whispered.

“You have me.”

For a long time, we just stayed there. Breathing each other in, letting the fear settle into something softer.