CLAIRE

We sat like that for a long time, Julian's arms around me, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady and sure.

The clock on the wall ticked away minutes that felt like hours. Finally, Julian spoke.

"I need to clean up," he said quietly. "The paramedic said to wash anywhere the acid might have touched."

I pulled back and looked at him, really looked at him, seeing the small burn marks on his shirt collar where drops had soaked through, fresh fear flooded through me.

What if he was hurt worse than he'd said? What if he needed treatment?

I reached for his collar with trembling...