Elena's POV
He handed me a mug. "You okay?"
I took it, fingers curling around the ceramic. "Not really. But seeing you helps."
He studied me for a second, then opened his arms. I stepped into them without hesitation.
"I should've come sooner," I mumbled into his shoulder.
"I'm glad you came now," he said.
And for a few minutes, I just stayed there—eyes closed, breathing in the comfort I'd missed more than I realized.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him.
"How's the wound?" I asked, my voice quiet.
He gave a small shrug, like it was nothing, but I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. "Healing. Slowly. The doctors say I'm stubborn, so that's either helping or making it worse."
I frowned. "You were stabbed, Cal. That's not something to brush off."
His smile was gentle. "I'm breathing, aren't I? Besides, you were the one who saved me—again."
My chest tightened. "You shouldn't have been the one to get hurt."
