Landon stood just outside the door, his back pressed lightly against the cool wood. He could hear her breathing slow, the subtle shift from guarded alertness to tentative rest. For a moment, he let himself breathe too.
He glanced down at his hands, still stained faintly from earlier struggles—both physical and emotional. Taking care of Daphne wasn’t just about the wounds on her ribs. It was about the cracks he could see beneath her tough exterior, the quiet battles no one else knew she fought.
The doctor would be here soon, but Landon knew this was only the beginning. He needed to earn her trust. And trust was something Daphne didn’t seem to give freely.
He didn’t expect her to let her guard down quickly, and he wasn’t going to push. She had every right to be cautious, especially of him
