Dane's POV:
"Danny, I'd love to."
The words land softly—gentle, trusting—and I force myself not to look at her face when she says them.
Because if I do, I'll hesitate.
Whatever I'm doing, it's for her.
She'd been so distressed when I came home earlier.
Shaken in that quiet way that frightens me. Her voice steady, her hands not quite.
Now she looks… settled. Here with me. Grounded. Calm in a way that makes something ache behind my ribs, sharp and unwelcome.
The kind of ache that reminds you how much you stand to lose.
"But I don't know where we are," she adds . "I'm a doctor. I still need to be cleared to treat people."
" It's all handled."
I nod too quickly.
A fraction too eager.
Trying too hard to look reasonable, accommodating.
"And where would I be working?" she continues, eyes bright now, curiosity pushing through the lingering haze.
"Do they know I'm not a specialist?"
There it is—excitement.
Real excitement.
