POV: Chloe
He didn't speak again on the drive home. Neither did I. His words sat between us in the dark, ‘now you care’ and I sat with them and felt the guilt of them and didn't have a good answer, because he wasn't wrong, and we both knew it.
Inside the house, I mean my house, the one built from words I'd spoken at twenty-two. I found the first aid kit myself this time, no panicking, very composed, and pointed at the kitchen island.
"Sit."
"Chloe,"
"Sit, Tristan!" I said firmly.
He sat...
Something in his expression shifted, he looks surprised, faintly amused, quietly pleased in a way he didn't quite manage to put away before I saw it.
I cleaned the wound without speaking, and he let me, watching my hands the way he watched everything about me.
I handled it with the practiced
