Wedcuffed
That quiet, controlled urgency, which always made me feel safe, was the only thing in him, no panic.
Within seconds, he came to my side as he brushed his hand to my cheek also pressing that same hand to my forehead like he felt that he needed some touch so as to steady himself. “How far apart?”
Shifting with discomfort, I admitted, “Not long. “Five… maybe six minutes.”
He nodded once, decisive. “We’re going.”