TEMPERED
Chris
She slept in my bed. I didn’t just let it happen; I invited her. And she came.
This can’t last. She’s too young. None of this could ever work. And yet I can’t wait to have her in it again. It’s all I think about.
Did Cash do this? I bet he did. Planting a seed, so subtle it comes off as small talk. That’s the trick. Even if you know how manipulation works, you still fall for it. Now, I’m falling for her. What the hell is going on?
My insides tore apart when I saw how panic hit her.
How fast her body locked up and her mind spiraled.
The moment Cash grabbed her, she wasn’t here anymore.
She was reliving everything I put her through: the van, the lake, the shed.
This wasn’t only about preparing her for the world she’s going back to.
Part of it was me trying to fix my mistakes.
Teaching her to take control again, to hold steady when everything in her screams to run.
She needed to experience that struggle, to fight her way out, not just react. If she can control her breath, she can control her body. Control means survival.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
But when she walked off shaking, shoulders rigid, not looking back, I was no hero. I was the reason she had to learn it at all.
She enters the kitchen with her head down. A fragile edge still clings to her. It makes me want to step in and take the weight myself, but I won’t. I trust she can handle it now.
When I ask if she feels any better, her answer is little more than air.
Measured steps carry me across the room. I don’t touch her right away. Instead, I wait a second longer than is comfortable. Only then do I reach up, slip two fingers beneath her chin, and gently tilt her face toward mine.
She doesn't pull away. But she doesn't lean in either. Her eyes meet mine, dulled. That fire in her is smothered for now.
“No more hiding. Not from us, not from yourself,” I say. It’s not a warning. Just what needs to be said.
She doesn’t respond, stays unmoving.
The hoodie she’s wearing swallows her frame. It’s one of Cash’s, by the look of it. He must’ve given it to her after the bath. I’m sure he loves her wearing it. That’s fine. She needs him tonight. She might need me tomorrow.
We don’t keep score. We’re in this together.
When Sara and Cash take their seats at the table I leave them to eat. I already have and they deserve that space.
In the living room, I kneel in front of the hearth and light the fire. The match catches, the flame flares, and the wood begins to glow. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sink into the armchair.
The subtle clink of utensils in the kitchen creates that strange sense of home. I already miss this, and she hasn’t even left yet.
Eventually, footsteps pad in behind me. Cash drops onto the far end of the couch as if settling in for the night.
“She all right?” I ask after a minute, nursing the glass in my hand.
“She will be.” He rubs the back of his neck, his jaw flexing before his eyes dart to the kitchen. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he almost looks remorseful.
Firelight fills the room in orange flickers, time stretching until Sara finally appears. Her movements are careful, as though she isn’t sure she belongs here. Her hands are hidden in her sleeves, eyes low but calm. She looks as if she’s debating whether to speak or disappear back into the shadows.
Cash lifts his chin, motioning toward the spot between us.
She hesitates.
“I’m tired,” she says. “Think I’ll go upstairs.”
He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even shift. “Nope,” he says. “You can drift through the movie if you want, but stay here with us.”
His tone stays gentle. He believes letting her hide would only make things worse. I’d let her go, but Cash wants to drag her back into the light, whether she’s ready or not.
I observe her, waiting for her decision. She stands there, jaw tight, weighing it without freaking out. She blinks once. “I need a minute,” she says finally. “Alone.”
Cash straightens. “And then what? You disappear for the rest of the night?”
She exhales through her nose. “Five minutes. That’s it. I’ll come back down.”
He studies her, like he’s deciding whether this is progress or the same escape dressed up differently. “Don’t make me come get you.”
The threat is there, but it’s blunted. More promise than force.
Exactly five minutes later she settles between us. Keeping her distance, she’s tucked between the cushions, chewing the insides of her cheeks, hands wedged under her thighs.
Again, Cash confirmed what I’ve suspected.
Give her acknowledgment and a choice, or the illusion of one, and she’ll cooperate.
Force her hand, and you get a different Sara.
It’s not just anger or defiance showing.
It’s the pure refusal to be a pawn. She turns into teeth and claws and would burn the whole board before she lets you win.
Tonight, they bargained, and each of them got what they wanted.
Well, Cash is still working on it when he tilts his head and lifts his brows in a silent Come on, that’s not it.
Looping an arm around her shoulders, he pulls her closer without effort.
She lets him and leans into him with a tired sigh.
Within seconds, her head rests against his chest as her body uncoils. And just like that, she’s asleep.
I guess they both broke a habit tonight.
There’s a peacefulness about her that wasn’t there weeks ago. Cash looks at her like she’s fragile, like she needs protection. I get that, but I also recognize the fire in her. The part that needs direction, not shelter.
“You want the bed tonight?” I ask after a while.
He shakes his head, not even considering it. “This is all I want.”
“Is that so? That’s not what I saw yesterday.”
“I couldn’t hold back if I had her in a bed,” Cash adds after a beat, his voice low, rough at the edges.
I glance over. “Why would you want to hold back?”
His fingers keep moving. “Because if I had her, I wouldn’t be able to give her back to the world.”
For the first time, I truly weigh what it would mean to keep her here, what it would cost her, what it would cost us. I’m already in too deep, and with every passing day, I care a little less about the fallout.
“I’m not sure I want to hold back,” I admit.
“So don’t,” he says like it’s the simplest truth. “Tonight, I just want to feel her breathe. Keep her warm. Even if it wrecks my back.”
The room goes still as the night settles in.
She sleeps between us, safe for the moment.
Moments don’t last, though, and neither do secrets. Soon we’ll have to tell her the truth about her mother. I’ve already run through it in my head, the dozen ways that conversation could end. None of them clean.