JD felt the pain simmering inside her. He could see it in her eyes—the weight of everything she had endured, the terror of that night still lingering in her bones. And she had faced it all alone.
"You're one strong woman, Joanne," he said, his voice steady, certain. "And I don't use that phrase easily."
She let out a soft, unexpected sound—half sob, half laugh—her emotions colliding in her throat.
Somehow, for reasons she couldn't think of, dared not to think of, and hoped not to discover, she felt happy that he understood.
JD wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She let herself lean into him, her body warm against his. They sat like that in silence, sipping beer, the weight of the past lingering but no longer suffocating.
Before he knew it, he turned slightly, his nose brushing against her hair. She smelled like the meadows and… food. Like home.
