[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
As he limped into view, Marin nearly dropped the French press, her eyes widening at the sight of him. He managed a faint smile as she quickly set it down before she could either spill or burn herself.
“You’re up,” she said softly, gently, pushing to her feet and moving to intercept him. “Why are you up?”
“Because it’s morning,” he said quietly, leaning down to kiss her gently, even as she wrapped her arms around his waist to help support him. He didn’t waver on his feet, not yet, but the support wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. “Because my wife wasn’t in bed with me when I woke up and you and Lin were gone and I was awake.” Trapping his crutch under one arm, he reached up to run his fingertips along her face. “Are you angry?”
“No,” she said, sighing. “Just worried.”
“That’s a usual state of being,” Thom murmured, then kissed her gently. She laughed, squeezing him gently before she started to help him to a seat by the fire. J.T. grinned up at the from preparing a few skillets to start eggs and hash browns.
“Feeling adventurous?” he asked.
Thom snorted. “Feeling useless, like I’ve been laying around for too long.” He caught Marin’s flinch out of the corner of his eye and winced. “Mar, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. It’s all right.”
Truth be known, he wasn’t quite sure what way he actually had meant it, but at least she let it go. Small favors. He watched as she returned to making the coffee, leaning back against the log bench she’d seated him on, his bad leg stretched out before him and his crutches set off to one side.
She smiled back over her shoulder at him. “Maybe this is what we needed so things could get back to normal.”
“Maybe,” he agreed quietly, watching her. His eyes began to sting unbidden.
I am never going to give you up, Marin. Not now and not ever.
