Page 98 of Aaron

Shock.

Relief.

Maybe both.

I press gently around the wound.

“You’re lucky,” I say. “Another inch and we’d be having a very different conversation.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“I know.”

And I do.

That’s the part that sits heavy. I can see all his scars while his shirt is off.

I finish taping the bandage, smoothing it into place, my fingers steady now.

Finally.

We sit there in the quiet.

Close.

Not touching.

But close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him.

Close enough that it matters.

“I shouldn’t have walked away,” he says suddenly.

The words are low.

Rough.

I look at him.

Really look at him.

“That wasn’t about me,” I say gently. “That was about your ghosts.”

He exhales slowly.

Like the truth costs him something.

“Yes.”

Silence settles again.

Soft this time.

Not sharp.

Not heavy.

Just… there.