Page 9 of Falcon’s Forever

"For you, maybe."

"Definitely for me." Sarah looks at Emily and just shrugs her shoulders.

I head for the kitchen before either of them can ask anything real, because the truth is I don't have an answer even if I wanted to give one. I spoke to Falcon. That's all it was, except it isn't, because for the first time since I came back here, I told him something I needed and he actually listened.

Show up. Two words that shouldn't mean as much as they do.

Falcon's spent years being the man who shows up for everyone. His brothers, the club, strangers who needed protecting and who he probably never saw again. It was one of the things I loved about him even when it drove me insane, because he'd walk through fire for anyone he considered his. He just never learned how to let anyone walk through it beside him.

That man's still in there. I've seen flashes of him since I came back. I've also seen the other one, the one who disappears inside himself and climbs on his bike and rides until whatever he's feeling turns into exhaustion instead. I can't fix that for him. More importantly, I don't want to. If Falcon and I ever find our way back to each other, it can't happen because I make myself responsible for keeping him whole. I spent too many years surviving other men's choices to build a future where my happiness depends on managing another man's.

Even if that man is Falcon. Especially if it's Falcon.

I fill the kettle and switch it on. Somebody swapped the heavy curtains in here for pale blinds last week, and I still don't know whose idea it was, but it means we can let in as much of the outside world as we're ready for without shutting it out completely. I know some people just think it’s a blind, but it means more than most people would guess. The Saints gave us walls, gates, cameras, and enough weapons on this property to invade a small country. They're very good at physical safety. The rest has been a learning curve for all of us.

A knock sounds at the back door. My shoulders lock automatically, then release when Knox's voice comes through it.

"Cara?"

"Come in."

He steps inside carrying a medical bag in one hand and a cardboard box under the other arm, closing the door carefully behind him. "Everyone decent?"

"Depends on your definition."

"Clothes."

"Then yes."

He sets the box on the table and looks at me and I know he looks at everyone the same way, he takes in posture and breathing and whatever else medical people notice that the rest of us miss.

"You sleep?" I know he’s asking for medical reason, but I still appreciate the thought.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Enough."

"That's not a number." He looks at me, knowing that I don’t want to talk about it.

"Wasn't supposed to be." His mouth twitches.

He asks about headaches, nightmares, gets a flat ‘Knox’ out of me for the second one, and gives up with more ease than I trust.

"You didn't come over here to interrogate me about my sleep," I say.

"No. Emily asked for more dressings." He opens the box. There’s bandages, antiseptic, painkillers, and a few things I can't identify inside. "Apparently my first-aid system is unacceptable."

"Your system probably is unacceptable."

"My system's worked for years." He’s mildly annoyed Emily is dissing his first-aid system.

"Your system is throwing things into a bag."

"I know where everything is."

"That's not a system, Knox."