oe

t I can feel his presence in the armchai

deafeningly loud. I know he's not asleep either. I

sk, my voice small in the darkness. I ne

going to answer. Then, he speaks, his voi

er softly. "You've saved theirs. That's the

deep. "It was a bad run. A deal with a rival charter

lt and horror he's been holding back. He describes the skirmish in b

llow. "I was out of ammo, cornered. Their Se

ene, my own fear a cold knot in my chest for the

ut of the way. Took the bullets meant fo

ck darkness, I can hear the

"And the whole time, Brandy was on the comm

lcome, washes over me. I imagine

ead. I just... shut down." He pauses. "It was Brandy who pulled me through. She was grieving, her whole wo

uty. It's a debt. A shared trauma that has b

ment, he turned to her. And she, in her

lse. A vast, insurmountable distance. He's not just protectin

f trying to convince himself as m

me?" I ask, my voice

Because there is no answer. In his ledger

to my chin, a flimsy shield against the col

gain. The silence that fa

ce a cold path to my pillow. It's a tear of mourning

first light of morning is filtering into the room. My hand is throbbi

umped against the back, finally asleep. He looks younger, more

hould be comforting, feels like a brand, marking me as his