Dominic helped Celeste wash up when she woke again. His hands were steady, and careful, like he was handling the most fragile porcelain, though she teased him once or twice that she wasn't going to shatter just because he dabbed her skin too gently.
He didn't answer her teasing. He only gave that look — the one that was part warning, part devotion, and completely Dominic.
She hadn't asked anything yet. Not about how long she'd been in coma. Not about what happened. And not even about who did it, snd what he was going to do.
The silence wasn't heavy between them, though. It was a peace he didn't dare break. He wasn't going to drown her in truths, not now. He wasn't going to hand her the weight he'd carried while she was gone. If she didn't ask, he wasn't going to tell. At least, not today.
Dominic had just finished helping Celeste wash up when Rodger walked in carrying a small glass tank. Inside, a single goldfish darted through the water, its tail catching the light.
