Page 62 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
"Yeah. Alright. Sounds good."
"Good," Ana said. "You look like you need someone to feed you and judge your life choices."
Byron eyed her like she was out of her mind, "He looks like he needs feeding, does he? Well, I am gonna be doing the feeding, ain't I, and you are gonna do the judging. Which she will. Mercilessly."
Kieran gave a rare smile.
"Lead the way, then."
***
SixMonths later
The apartment was quiet when Ana walked in, too quiet, like it was holding its breath.
Her duffel dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. She winced as her shoulder protested the movement. Her body was one giant bruise. Black and blue in some places, yellow and green in others. The worst of the swelling had gone down, but her ribs still ached when she breathed too hard.
She wasn't supposed to be gone more than a week. It was supposed to be a safe mission.
It had stretched into 2 months of chaos. What was meant to be a routine stint during a meeting between the leaders of two countries with the peacekeeping force had turned into an evacuation disaster. Unrest had exploded across the region, and Ana had found herself caught in the middle, dragged from site to site, injured during the scramble to escape, and eventually airlifted out after a nearby blast had knocked her against the side of a transport truck.
It hadn't been serious, though she looked a mess. Bruised and battered. There were no broken bones. No internal bleeding. But Byron hadn't cared about technicalities.
He'd cared that she hadn't come home.
And worse, he hadn't been able to protect her.
Now she sat on the couch, her hoodie zipped all the way up, fingers fidgeting around the frayed edge of her sleeve. Her phone buzzed once, then went quiet. A moment later, the lock clicked.
Byron stepped in like a storm breaking.
His hair was tousled from the flight, backpack still slung over one shoulder and jaw locked tight.
She stood. "Hey-"
"Are you fuckin' serious right now?" he bit out. "You look like you went twelve rounds with a truck."
Ana's mouth flattened. "It was nothing."
"Nothing? Ana, you were stuck in a hospital in Jordan for more than a month, and you didn't tell me!"
"I didn't want you to worry. I was there because it was the only safe place. We were messaging-"
"Messaging?" He scoffed. "Every time we talked, you ended the call early or started a bloody fight. Don't think I didn't notice."
She folded her arms. "Because every time we did talk, you made it about you. About how worried you were. About how helpless you felt."
Byron blinked, as if slapped.
"Because I was helpless! I didn't know if you were safe, Ana. I had to find out from your dad that you had been airlifted. And I flew down the second your plane took off from Jordan. I've been on edge for two months, and now I walk in and you act like I am being a drama queen?"
She turned away.
"You haven't been to your psych appointments for about a year," he added, quieter now.
That one hit.
"Don't start," she muttered, "I'm fine"
