"Was he the one who hit you?"
"Really? That's what you're thinking about right at this very moment?"
"Yes or no."
"Why?"
"Yes or no."
Beyond stressed out, I don't want to think about Harris. "Yes. Now back off."
Captain Mathis shifts me in his grip and rests his chin against my temple. I don't want to know what's going through his mind, if he's recalling how he held me last night. Because Harris aside, I am definitely thinking about what almost happened. My body is fevered on the inside and chilled on the outside, and I'm far too aware of where his hands are, considering our dangerous situation. His strong, solid frame is at my back, the only thing standing between me and the ravine.
I like being this close to him a little too much.
He's too quiet.
"You aren't going to do something to him, are you?" I ask.
"Why do you care?"
"Because you're going to make things worse then go away, and I'll have to deal with him. I can handle it."
"I'll make sure you don't have to."
I sigh and sag into his body. He supports my weight with ease, and I rest my head against his shoulder. "Please don't."
"Someone's got to take care of you. You won't let your brother, and I'm not asking for permission," he replies.
"I'm fine. I don't need anyone taking care of me in any way!"
There's a pause before he responds. "The Harris issue aside … You won't let anyone else take care of you, so I'll say what no one else will. You haven't given yourself time to heal from Mikael's death. It's why you have these aggression issues and an unhealthy way of expressing yourself and why you are strangling Petr to death with mothering him."
This really isn't the time and place to hear him talk about something like this. I listen. His words hit harder than I expect, maybe because I'm in his arms. Or maybe because it's true. I've been running from the pain of Mikael's death, throwing myself into caring for Petr, because I don't know what else to do.
Maybe that's why this week is so important to me. I need to prove that I'm alive when I feel so dead inside. Petr is getting better. I know it. I see it.
It scares me, too, because when he gets to the point where he doesn't need me, when he goes back to viewing me as the annoying little sister he always has, I'll be alone with my pain.
"So you're saying I'm broken," I whisper. "Like you."