My hold tightened in response, one arm braced solid under him, the other sliding up his back.
“I’ve got you,” I said, mouth close to his temple, voice low enough it didn’t have to compete with the way his breathing kept breaking against me. “You’re out. You’re with me. I’ve got you.”
“I couldn’t get out,” he said into my neck, words muffled. “It wouldn’t open— I tried?—”
“I know, baby.” I kissed his temple. “You’re out now. With me.”
My eyes lifted over his shoulder, landing on Rhys still standing there, watching, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Thank you,” I said.
Rhys blinked, like he wasn’t sure what to do with that, then let out a breath that looked like it had been sitting in his chest the whole time. “Yeah. I mean—of course.” He shook his head once. “He needed out. I just got him here.”
“I know,” I said, and I meant it.
Rhys mattered to Archie.
He was where Archie went when things slipped—someone he’d already let close and already trusted to see him unravel and stay anyway. A place he landed without thinking about it first.
That kind of access didn’t come easy. It was earned, and I respected it for exactly that reason.
As long as Rhys kept him steady instead of knocking him off balance.
The line wasn’t complicated.
Keep him safe or step out of the way.
There wasn’t anything in between.
“I’m gonna go,” Rhys added, glancing at Archie again. “Give you some space. I’ll call you later, okay, Arch?”
There was a small movement against my neck, something like a nod.
“I’ve got him,” I said, shifting my grip, one arm tightening under him as I turned back toward the house. “You’re good.”
Rhys hesitated a second longer, then nodded and backed off, already pulling his keys from his pocket.
“Stay with me, Rabbit.” I murmured, starting down the sidewalk, my hand still moving slow and steady along his back, the same path over and over until it started to mean something. “We’re going home.”
“Home,” he breathed, the word catching it like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to want it.
Something in my chest pulled tight enough to make me want to split myself open and put him there—keep him where nothing could get to him.
I cut across the grass instead of the walk. “Can we go inside?” I asked, slowing as we hit the bottom step. “Or do you need a minute out here?”
His arms tightened around me.
“Inside,” he said, voice rough. “With you.”
The porch gave under my weight, old wood creaking in a way I normally would’ve noticed.Not today. There was only him.
I nudged the door open and walked us through without stopping.
“Dont—” he muttered, voice scraping, barely there. “Don’t lock it.”
“I won’t, baby.”
Something in me bolted into place—violent in its clarity.