Tangerine purred, a throaty rumble that vibrated right through my ribs and into her. As her breathing slowed, as the rise and fall of sleep stole her outwardly from me, I let my own head clear. The fog of adrenaline peeled back and left me both raw and beautifully awake. I could think again.
I thought of Jonas, of Stan hauling himself into a moment that saved her enough to scar the world into two halves: before and after.
My chest tightened with gratitude toward my brother-in-law, he’d stepped in, he’d become a protector in the moment it mattered. He’d earned more than brownie points; he’d earned something like my respect, which is not given lightly. And I would tell him.
I would thank him properly, apologize for the rough ways I’d been toward him when first we’d met, and offer beers
