(Dorian’s POV)
Eventually, her breathing evens out. The trembling stops.
She pulls back slightly, not quite meeting my eyes. "I got your shirt dirty."
"I have more shirts."
She wipes at her face with shaking hands. "Thank…thank you. And I’m sorry for being pathetic."
"You're not pathetic, Grace. You're hurt." I step back, giving her space. "Now. Are you staying? Or are you leaving?"
She's quiet for a long moment.
Then she takes a shaky breath. "I’m staying.”
Relief floods through me. "Good."
"But Dorian?"
"Yeah?"
"I need you to understand something." Her eyes finally meet mine. "I'm not going to be your charity case. If we're doing this, we're going to do it as partners. Equals. I help you, you help me, but neither of us gets to play the hero."
A smile tugs at my mouth. "Deal."
