Elena's POV
He didn't say no at first. He didn't have to. The look on his face when I told him I wanted to go back to the office was a whole speech in itself , a slow, sharpened cloud of worry and an instinctive attempt to protect. I'd seen that expression since the hospital: a man who had tasted the idea of a different priority set and didn't quite like how it rearranged his chest.
"You don't have to go," Justin said quietly, as if the sentence itself could be a safe harbor. He was folded into the corner of the couch, a cup of tea cooling in his hands. His voice had that careful, measured tone he uses when he's trying to avoid tipping into panic. "You can get better. You can rest. We'll manage here."
