That, she doesn't believe. He might. She doesn't. But she can't deny the fact that they're standing in the middle of a house that's been lived in. One he navigates with familiarity. She's scrambling to make some kind of sense of it, to slot the fact that he's been here for weeks in with the knowledge that she saw him hours ago. The two facts bounce off each other like poorly-matched magnets.

They've been helping me at night.

It feels like someone just slammed all the air out of the room as the implications hit.

Dani presses the fingertips of one hand against her lips, forcing her thoughts back into order.

He looks like hell. Like absolute hell, worse than she's ever seen him, and it's not just because he's not wearing one of his suits and hasn't bragged about getting two hours of sleep.

"God, Bright." She feels like she's had the bottom knocked out of her stomach. "Your meds. Your restraints."

Dani wants to say something smarter. But she's hung up on the miracle that he's still alive. She swallows around the knot in her throat, moves around the island, and yanks him into a rough hug. "Cowboys, huh?" Her voice is quiet. "They take turns hogtying you, or do they get to draw straws?"