"I find that comforting," she admitted. "That I still seem to be me, since I'm not really sure who that is. But it feels... right... that I'm here, so I hope that's a good thing. A good sign that I remember you both somewhere in here." She tapped her temple. "But yeah, one day at a time is all we can really do right now." Greer looked down at her cards before lifting her gaze back to Rost, a smile playing at her lips again. "You said I read your palm when we met... what did I say about it... do you remember?"
Rost found it comforting as well, and he was glad that Greer wasn’t put off by their obvious love for her. That was just who she was though, wasn’t it? He gave a soft laugh at her question and glanced down at his hands. That moment when she’d grabbed his wrist and inserted herself into his life seemed like decades ago and just last week at the same time. He wet his lips and looked at her again. “You said ... I was the shape of air,” he said softly, a dreamy smile crossing his face. That part had always stuck with him as particularly beautiful. “Creative, optimistic, positive, no judging, but also heartbroken in my past. I flatter myself to think it is all true. But you have me from that first moment.”
It wouldn't make much sense to her to be put off by the adoration these two men clearly felt for her. It made her feel wanted and loved, even if she didn't know who they were. Not yet, anyway. She could be somewhere alone, or with someone who treated her poorly, or who felt indifferent to her return. Greer understood that it made more sense to be cautious, but she felt nothing but acceptance and warmth. As she listened to Rost, she felt stirrings of some kind of familiarity. It still felt too far for her to grasp it completely, but it was there. Like she could remember how his hand had felt in hers, how her fingertip had traced the lines in his palm. "I haven't known you long in this... version of myself... but I can't help but think I was right about those things," Greer said.
It was such a sweet, Greer thing to say, it made Rost feel a little choked up. Really, all of this made him want to cry so much, but happy tears now, as opposed to tears from the black depression that had gripped him so tight for months. Losing Delle years ago had been extremely difficult, but losing Greer -- and Dev too, in a sense, for a while -- had been devastating on an unanticipated level. But now she was back, making all of that dissipate just with her presence, and it was hard not to start weeping again. Rost gave her a watery smile, squeezing his fingers together so he didn’t reach out to cling to her. She needed time and space to rest, he reminded himself. Clearing his throat, Rost straightened up a bit and looked in the direction Dev had gone. “You need help in there, love?” he called.
Dev appeared in the doorway with a smile. "No, I'm done," he reassured him before disappearing again, this time to put the sheets in the washing machine. It didn't take long and he returned, still smiling because it was hard to stop. He stopped behind Rost, grasping his shoulders to smother those same impulses in himself to touch Greer. He absolutely needed to be touching someone right now and it was safer to touch Rost. "The bed is all yours," he said. "And if you need anything, you let us know. More heat, less heat, a better lamp." He would run to the store if he had to to get Greer whatever she desired, so it was a good thing they had access to a truck now.