The fight started the second he stood and reached for his clothes. I grabbed mine, and he didn't like that. "You're not going."
I didn't answer. I just pulled on my jeans.
"You don't have tactical gear."
"Then get me some."
He yanked open a drawer and threw on a black shirt. "You're not trained for this."
"I'm not hiding."
He paced. I pulled on my boots.
He said nothing else, but I saw it. When he opened the wardrobe and pulled out another vest. He paused for just a second and sighed. He didn't hand it to me. Didn't acknowledge it. Just laid it on the bed.
I didn't touch it. I didn't thank him.
He didn't say it. He didn't have to. The fear hadn't left him since the day that bullet landed inches from my head. And now I could feel it too. It rolled through the bond.
Ever since I ma
