He lets me position the ice over his bruise, watching me in a way that spreads heat up the back of my neck. I adjust the cloth to ensure the cold reaches the worst of the discoloration without pressing too hard on his tender skin.
His scent fills my nostrils, mixed with the metallic tang of dried blood and the faint trace of hotel soap. Beneath it all are his clean linen and sun-warmed cedar pheromones, muted now by pain and exhaustion.
“You should lie down,” I tell him.
“I shouldn’t have come.” His words slur around his swollen lip. “I don’t know why I did. It was…”
“Instinct,” I say. “You knew you’d be safe here.”
“But after the way I broke things off…” He searches my face for anger or resentment for the weeks he stayed away. Finding neither, his shoulders drop a fraction. “It was a huge mistake.”
I step back, giving him space to move as he toes off his shoes and shifts his legs onto the bed with careful movements.
The springs creak as he settles into the pillows, his large frame making the queen-sized bed appear smaller than it is. He winces again as he adjusts the ice pack.
“I should have told you about Carson sooner,” he says as I tug the crocheted blanket up from the foot of the bed. “I thought I was protecting you.”
“We can talk about everything tomorrow.” I straighten. “For now, just rest.”
Leif catches my wrist as I turn to leave. “Thank you, Em. I don’t deserve your kindness.”
A band wraps around my heart and squeezes. “Of course, you deserve kindness.”
“I owe you.”
“No, you don’t.” I gently tug my arm free. “I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do, not because I expect anything in return.”
Tears threaten, and he uses the cloth around the ice pack to soak them up.
The band around my heart tightens. “Are you sure about going back to the Academy?”
“Walking away again would only give Carson another victory,” he says, pain turning his periwinkle irises hazy. “I’m done running.”
At his words, the tightness in my chest loosens. It took strength for him to come to my door tonight despite his injuries.
“We’ll need to document your injuries before the swelling gets worse,” I say, practical considerations taking precedence. “Jared can take photos once you’ve rested a bit. The timing will show up in the metadata.”
“What will I tell the Wright Pack?” His lower lip trembles, and he turns his head away. “I won’t be able to hide the bruises from Quinn.”
Gingerly, I sit on the edge of the bed. “I can take Quinn to school on Monday. We’ll treat it as a fun surprise. As for the Wright Pack… I’ve known Blake for years. He won’t blame you for Carson’s actions.”
Leif’s eyelids droop, then snap back open, fighting the exhaustion. The ice pack slips from his fingers as his grip loosens, and I catch it before it falls, placing it on the nightstand beside the water glass.
“Try to sleep,” I tell him. “We have time to figure out the rest.”
“Will you stay?” he asks, the question slipping out unguarded. “Just for a minute.”
I fold my hands in my lap. “Of course.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Not for tonight, but for everything before. The missed dinners. The excuses. The distance.”
“I know.” I don’t offer absolution, but I don’t reject it, either. “We’ll talk about it when your swelling has gone down.”
A ghost of a smile tugs at the uninjured corner of his mouth.
“It wasn’t you,” he says, dropping toward sleep. “I need you to know that. It was never about you.”
“I know that, too.”