MEND ME IF YOU CAN.
Travian asked, his voice quieter than the wind, stripped bare of everything but honesty.
Soren’s throat tightened until it burned. He swallowed hard, forcing the bandage tighter, blinking against the tears blurring his vision. His voice cracked when it came. “I don’t know. I think I’d have shattered. You’re the only thing holding me together, Travian. And it terrifies me.”
Travian’s hand, rough and calloused, rose. He caught Soren’s wrist, halting his frantic movements. His fingers curled firm but gentle, grounding him, pulling his gaze upward. Those storm-gray eyes searched Soren’s face as if carving every detail into memory.
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