Elena's POV
He handed me a mug. "You okay?"
I took it, fingers curling around the ceramic. "Not really. But seeing you helps."
He studied me for a second, then opened his arms. I stepped into them without hesitation.
"I should've come sooner," I mumbled into his shoulder.
"I'm glad you came now," he said.
And for a few minutes, I just stayed there—eyes closed, breathing in the comfort I'd missed more than I realized.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him.
"How's the wound?" I asked, my voice quiet.
He gave a small shrug, like it was nothing, but I saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. "Healing. Slowly. The doctors say I'm stubborn, so that's either helping or making it worse."
I frowned. "You were stabbed, Cal. That's not something to brush off."
His smile was gentle. "I'm breathing, aren't I? Besides, you were the one who saved me—again."