What he was doing soothed her in a physical, visceral way. It had been so, so long since she'd been in anyone's arms, since she'd been handled by anyone as if she belonged there, as if she were his. But what he said did nothing at all to help.
No, she thought, as iron seeped back into her core and she straightened, sniffing back the embarrassing tears. In a way, he'd helped with that. It made her angry.
"I don't need another friend," she said. She pulled away from him and rocked back on her heels in the grass so she could see him better - and so he could look a her, too. See her. All of her, every part.
"I spent a year without you, and if it hadn't been for the work that the collective needed, I... " She didn't finish. He'd seen some of what she'd been. "And now, I feel like I'm... I'm in front of a fire, frostbitten. I want..."
She wanted to drown in him.
But Preston. John Preston, with his orderly and unassuming ways. He had strength in him, a brutality she'd never sensed in Aidan, and yet, he was ineffably gentle with her. Always. Her heart had surprised her, with John. Gradually, they had grown into each other until they simply and unassumingly belonged to each other.