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“You spend a lot of time in the kitchen, and there, you’re incapable of lying... It’s where you come clean.” - Pedro Almodóvar
Dana
He sent texts, he called. He asked Gloria, only to hear that due to privacy concerns she can’t be of help. Hell, he even got Jack to reach out, sure that his therapised approach might be more useful than his anxious attempts at contact. Nothing.
It’s two weeks after PittFest when he finds himself pacing a familiar doorstep, still unsure if it’s the right thing to do. It’s easier when they’re on shift – the frigid environment leaves no time for hesitation. Now, looking at her front door, drenched in the morning fall sun, Robby feels undecided for the first time in ages.
Yesterday’s shift is still ringing in his ears.
“Dana– I mean, Lena, I mean– Fuck!”
“Hey!” Jack’s voice cuts through the noise in Robby’s head. “Step out, brother.” A steady hand lands on Robby’s back. “We got this.”
With a firm shake of his head, Robby straightens his spine and presses his finger to the doorbell. Out with it, Robinavitch, he tells himself. The voice in his head has a familiar rasp to it.
In seconds, the door swings open.
“This an intervention?”
“Depends,” he shrugs. “Does it need to be one?”
Dana eyes him carefully. Her arms are folded across her chest – defensive, ready to argue – as she looks Robby up and down. He looks back, and she can see that he won’t relent. Sheepishly, he extends his arm, holding a box from her favourite bakery. With a heavy sigh she steps aside, letting Robby into her house.
It’s been ages since the last time he came to visit – Thanksgiving in 2019, to be exact, when he was still reeling from his breakup with Heather, and Dana took pity on him, inviting him to tag along with the Evans family.
It’s never occurred to Robby that this house can be quiet. That it’s anything else other than a place booming with music and laughter. Now, it has a strange, stretched quality to it; everything seems larger, emptier. The general look of the house is the same as he remembers it. But stepping further inside, Robby starts to notice changes – a new set of curtains, a different layout of the dining room. A new set of pictures on the mantelpiece, of Dana’s daughters and their families.
Robby brushes a finger across one of the frames, and turns around to look at Dana. “So, you’ve been redecorating?”
“Among other things,” she drawls. “Come see this,” she says excitedly, leading Robby out onto the patio.
The morning is sunny, but brisk. Looking at Dana hugging herself in her navy blue jumper, all Robby wants to do is throw his own zip-up over her shoulders, but before he can even reach for the zipper, Dana is off, sauntering through the grass, sure he’ll follow her. He does.
At first glance, half of the garden looks like it’s been plowed by a madman. Well, a madwoman. There’s fresh soil everywhere, along with various bags of seeds, and garden tools. With a squint of his eyes, Robby starts noticing neat lines of flowerbeds in the ground.
In the other half of the space the grass is cut neatly, with the lawnmower still standing by the fence. Amused, but also a little bit terrified, Robby spots the pressure washer laying in the far corner of the tiled patio, which he now realises is squeaky clean.
“...Oh, and here I planted spinach.” Dana’s still explaining, not really paying much attention to Robby. “I had to go to the garden center, get some real fuckin’ smelly compost for it– Hey, you with me?” She whips around to see him standing a few steps behind, in stunned silence.
“Yeah, yeah.” Robby nods, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Cool, huh?” She takes off, not waiting for an answer. “Coffee?” she throws over her shoulder, and she disappears into the house.
With a heavy sigh Robby follows her back inside. He wasn’t expecting– Well, truthfully he didn’t know what to expect at all when he realised Dana wasn’t going to pick up his calls anytime soon. He certainly didn’t expect all that. It makes sense though – Dana taking care of living things again. At least these don’t kick, or spit, or punch.
The sound of cabinets opening and closing leads Robby into Dana’s kitchen. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching her command the space with ease; how she shoves the cutlery drawer closed with her hip; how she gets on her toes to reach for the nice, porcelain mugs. With a tug in his heart he notices it’s the ones Dana got from him for hers and Benji’s twentieth anniversary.
It’s almost like a choreographed dance – first the cups. Then the coffeemaker. Check the water, the beans. Milk? No, thanks, black will do. You sure? Mary-Kate got me some fancy oat-milk bullshit. Okay then, if you insist. I do.
The domesticity looks strange on Dana. Not wrong, just– strange. It’s weird to see her with her hair let down, in normal clothes. In light blue house slippers, which look warm and fuzzy, and extremely beat up, Robby notices with amusement.
The smell of coffee starts to fill the room as Robby settles against the kitchen island, and reaches for the box he brought with him – chocolate chip cookies with a sprinkle of sea salt, from a place in Squirrel Hill that Dana keeps mentioning from time to time. It’s a sappy gesture, Robby knows, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Oh God,” Dana almost moans, biting down on the cookie when two coffees are finally done. “These are just as good as I remembered them.” Then, she eyes Robby suspiciously. “Is this a bribe? Because Robby, I swear to God–”
“No, listen,” Robby interjects. “I didn’t come here to beg you to come back–” He falters slightly when Dana’s lips curve into a smirk.
“Okay, yeah, maybe just a little bit. It’s hell out there without you,” he admits with a small smile. “I came here as a friend. No one’s heard from you these last two weeks, and we’re all worried, and I just–” he takes a deep breath and looks around the place. “Are you alright?”
It’s hell out here too is what Dana wants to say, but doesn’t. The house has a funny effect on her like that. With the girls gone, it’s become the land of unfinished conversations over the dinner table and quiet evenings on the couch. The realm of always biting one’s tongue. But Robby’s presence seems to override the latest trend in the Evans household.
“I’ve been going a little insane, yeah,” she says with a huff, trying to keep her tone light.
“Yeah, figured as much when we started talking about garlic and spring onion” Robby says, trying to match it. Dana shoots him a faux innocent look.
“What, a girl can’t develop a passion for gardening?”
Deflection is a familiar dance, a game that they often play. But Robby’s too worried, and too tired now. Instead of indulging Dana he crosses his arms and gives her his best stern, no-nonsense look. Of course, Dana being Dana, she stares back, her chin tilted upwards, rising to the challenge.
But she’s tired too. Tired of pretending she’s fine, tired of the routine she’s found herself in. Tired of the feelings that have been simmering in her chest for the last couple of days. Tired of keeping them under the lid. So–
“Okay! Fuck– These past two weeks I’ve been jumping off the walls, man. I’ve cleaned, and I’ve rearranged, and I’ve repotted.” Dana knows she’s rambling but she can’t stop now. “I caught up on every book I’ve wanted to read for the last twenty years, I–”
She pauses, her fingers skirting along the rim of the mug. Robby can almost see the gears turning in her head. Her shoulders drop, and there’s a resigned look in her eyes.
“The thing that gets me, that really fucking gets me, is how thrilled, how fucking happy he is to have me home. And I’m trying, God knows I’m trying to feel the same but–”
Robby’s chest is so tight he feels like he’s going to vomit.
“But I’m dying here, Robby,” Dana whispers, and he realises she’s trembling.
“And yes, he’s being patient, and kind, and all the other things a husband should be,” she drones on. “But I know there’s a limit to this; I know he doesn’t want to hear about me coming back to work; I know divorce has crossed his mind multiple times by now.”
“The thing is–” Dana pauses, taking a small sip of her coffee. She turns to face Robby. “I can’t blame him. I can’t be mad. You and I, we both know what it’s like to watch someone you love destroy themselves day after day.”
“The difference is, we see the purpose. He sees the end result.” She shrugs and arches the eyebrow over her bruised eye.
“Dana,” Robby begins, not really sure what to say.
“And I– I’ve come to terms that maybe I am the bad guy–” She pauses; then, “The bad wife,” she says wryly, amused at her own pun. “The workaholic, the overachiever.”
“Hey, you’re not–”
“Oh, but I am, Robby. I am,” Dana says, more forcefully now, bracing herself against the counter. “I miss work. Yes, I miss saving lives, but I also miss the chaos, the adrenaline, the thrill. Isn’t that fucking insane? All I can think about is that fucking hellhole.”
Silence stretches between them and Robby’s mouth feels full with things he wants to say but can’t; shouldn’t. With a shrug, he settles on the simplest one.
“Then come back.”
A laugh. An actual, full belly laugh is the sound comes out of Dana. It’s a start, Robby thinks to himself. He knows it’s not that simple, especially now that he knows her marriage is on the line. He knows she won’t be back in the ER come Monday. He knows there’s weeks ahead of him where he’ll come to work and feel like he’s missing a limb. For now, though, seeing her smile again is enough to keep him going.
Silence settles between them again, but it’s lighter now; easier. Clouds seem to have lifted from behind Dana's eyes. She clears her throat, and puts her cup into the sink. She steps towards Robby, who extends the cup he’s holding, assuming she wants to take it. But she shakes her head, and part of Robby’s sure he’s imagining things when he hears her voice fill the silence.
“Hold me?”
It’s an old request, from a different time. A time where they would seek each other out after nightmarish shifts; on the hospital rooftop, the parking lot, the ambulance bay; where they would embrace each other silently – a first moment of stillness after twelve hours of chaos.
But with time their hearts grew tougher and their skin roughened, and long hugs turned into brief squeezes, then into quick pats on the back or on the shoulder.
Now, looking at Dana, her frame seemingly smaller in a loose knit jumper and sweats, Robby sees a young nurse, shaken and tired from a long day. His heart aches.
“‘Course,” he says, walking over to the couch. “C’mon.”
He plops down and pats the space next to him. Dana melts into his side instantly, her palm finding the softness of his waist under his zip-up, his palm finding the tension of her shoulder under her jumper. Almost on its own accord, Robby’s thumb swipes across the knots.
“My girls got me a coupon,” Dana says. Her breath tickles Robby’s chest. “For a massage. But–” she shrugs and trails off.
“You’re not up for a spa day?”
“No, I’m just– Not really into the idea of a stranger putting their hands on me right now, you know?” Dana says, and her voice is small; smaller than it’s been in a while.
A thoughtful hum from Robby vibrates against Dana’s cheek. His fingers trace the slope of her shoulder once, twice. “D’you mind if I–?” he asks, his voice trailing off.
Not really trusting her words, Dana simply shakes her head and nuzzles her face in the crook of Robby’s neck, exposing the smooth line of her own. Silently, she prays that he can’t feel the heat of her face against his skin.
His fingers start moving along the knots in her muscles and Dana’s thoughts are reduced to the contact between his rough palm and her neck; how nice the warmth feels, how gentle he’s being, how tender. She lets her eyes drift closed and gives into the sensation.
One by one, the knots in Dana's neck and shoulder are starting to break apart, much to Robby's satisfaction. He keeps working his fingers over her skin until he feels her whole body become blissfully limp against his side.
A few long minutes pass when Dana’s hand gently slides from Robby’s side into his lap, and her head falls forward. Immediately she snaps back up, almost knocking against his jaw in the process.
“Ah, fuck–” she says. Her voice is groggy when she pushes herself away from Robby’s chest. “Almost dozed off on ya there.”
There’s a delightful blush spreading on Robby’s cheeks, and it is not lost on Dana how easy it would be, now that their limbs are tangled up together, to reach up to his jaw and draw him close again, closer than they’ve ever been. Her fingers tingle with a phantom sensation of his beard against her palm, and she wonders how it would feel in reality. Benji’s always been clean-shaven, from the day she’d met him.
Robby’s eyes are fixed on hers, and she can see he’s trying to read her. With a pang in her chest she realises that she’s not sure that if she leaned in, he would meet her halfway. There are enough things on her plate as is; fucking things up with Robby isn’t something she wants to add to the long list of mistakes she’d made.
So, she retreats to the safety of his shoulder, pressing her cheek against the fabric of his t-shirt, warmed by his skin. His heartbeat is loud against her ear; steady. Soothing.
“Just five more minutes,” she mumbles. Robby’s fingers comb through her hair as she drifts off again. For the first time in two weeks Dana easily falls into slumber. She dreams of Robby's lips pressing faintly against the crown of her head.
Robby
A faint sound of a Pens game carries through the house when she lets herself in. She slips off her shoes, and sets her bag down quietly, trying not to disturb the ambiance.
There is a part of her that’s sure she’ll find him dead. Lying on the couch or in the shower. Pool of pills or pool of blood. She stands quietly in the hallway, mentally sorting through her options, bracing herself. Who would she call first? She knows Jack is his emergency contact, and so is she. The three of them made a pact one day, after a particularly rough shift. But having to actually make that phone call– she doesn’t know if she could bear it.
On shaky legs, Dana advances down the corridor, her hand against the wall to keep herself steady. Her mind is racing as she looks at the few pictures hanging on the walls.
Robby, Jack and her, proudly showing off their new PTMC badges. Their scrubs are clean and neatly pressed.
Robby and Jake on a trip somewhere up north. Robby is holding Jake up in the air. The little boy is clinging to a fish he caught all by himself.
Robby and his childhood dog, Rex. Robby, aged five, maybe six, is wearing a plastic stethoscope, pretending to give the dog an exam. He looks utterly serious.
Dana’s heart is hammering against her ribs when she rounds the corner and walks into the living room. It doesn’t look as bad as she was expecting. There’s a jacket thrown over the couch. His shoes are lying on the carpet. A line of empty beer bottles stands proudly at the edge of the coffee table. A small tower of takeaway boxes rests against the pillow on the couch.
He’s not in the living room. He’s not in the kitchen or the dining room. Dana swallows thickly when she glances in the direction of the bathroom, not sure she has the guts to check there. But then she feels a slight breeze and notices that the doors leading out to the back of the house are open. A relief washes over her.
The garden is overgrown – the grass is too tall, unkempt. There’s weeds peeking through the patio tiles. There’s apples rotting under the tree. There’s Robby, sitting in the grass, his back pressed against the rough tree trunk. His eyes are closed but she sees his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He’s alive.
Dana approaches him carefully, trying not to spook him.
She sits down next to Robby, gently bumping her knee against his. She rests her back against the tree and looks up. It’s a nice spot to sit in. The leaves are moving with the wind. The branches are creaking softly. It’s a soothing sound.
Dana inhales the smell of the damp grass and the apples withering away, but it gets stuck in her throat.
“See, I told you. Your lungs can’t take fresh air anymore.”
The vibration of Robby’s voice flows through Dana as he speaks. His eyes are closed but there’s a smile playing on his lips when she turns her head to shoot him one of her unimpressed looks.
Just to spite him, Dana fishes around her pocket, looking for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. The stress of the last ten minutes of searching for Robby around the house, half-expecting to find him unconscious, made her crave the simple relief.
Robby cracks one eye open and watches Dana light the cigarette. She’s expecting another smartass comment, or a lecture. To her surprise Robby extends two fingers, making his request clear.
“My, my, you really have been going off the rails, huh?” she teases but hands him the cigarette without hesitation.
Dana watches Robby inhale deeply. She grins when he winces at the bitter taste.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Dana,” he croaks. “How can you smoke this shit all day?”
Their eyes meet for the first time. Dana asserts his face quickly and with precision. It’s only been a few weeks but God, it looks like he’s aged five years since she last saw him, more than a month ago. The lines between his eyebrows have deepened. The shadows under his eyes have darkened. His cheeks look more hollow. Dana’s heart breaks. She knew it wouldn’t be easy; that the sabbatical would make him worse before making him better. A selfish part of her hoped he’d come back all patched up. Brand new.
“Practice makes better,” she retorts and plucks the cigarette from his fingers. They pass it back and forth a few times, in silence.
The sun is setting behind Robby’s house. The light is pouring in, making the interior glow with warmth. From out here everything looks so neat, but also so lived in. Lines of books on the shelves. An art piece he got as a gift when he became an attending. His vinyl collection. Briefly, Dana imagines herself sitting on the floor, sorting through Robby’s belongings, boxing them up. Would she take them home? Rent out a storage unit? Donate everything? Her heart becomes heavy at the thought.
A sudden glint of light reflecting off of the kitchen tap makes Dana remember what she came here for.
“Hey.” Dana presses her elbow into his side. “You hungry?”
She grabs Robby’s knee and pushes on it to stand up. When he doesn’t make a move she extends her arm, her palm outstretched. He gives her one of his don’t be ridiculous looks before propping himself up on his hands and getting up.
The kitchen is a mess. If Robby felt any better, he’d probably be embarrassed. A fly circles between the dishes in the sink and a pan on the stove. Plates resting on the drying rack are probably collecting dust by now.
It’s not that Robby is a messy person. No, he is actually a bit of a clean freak– he runs as tight a ship at home as he tries to at work. He has his rules, and his routines that he sticks to. But the plans for his sabbatical changed and hours spent on the couch stretched into days and soon he was like the fly living in his kitchen right now. Orbiting between the couch, the bathroom and occasionally the entrance door when he found enough strength in himself to order food.
The clink of the dishes rouses Robby back to reality. Dana’s in his kitchen, moving with such ease you’d think she’s been navigating these cabinets for the last twenty years. Robby feels guilt settling in his stomach.
“Dana, you know you don’t have to,” he starts. She has her own shit going on but she’s here dealing with his and he can’t–
“Shut the hell up and go get the bags I’ve left in the hallway,” she says, mustering her best no-nonsense tone.
If there’s a blush forming on Robby’s cheeks, Dana pretends she doesn’t notice it. Instead she pulls up her sleeves and starts rinsing the dishes in the sink before putting them away, into the dishwasher. She works methodically; big plates, small plates, bowls. Glasses and cups. Utensils. Before Robby knows it, the kitchen is squeaky clean, and his fridge is stocked again. Greens, eggs, and dairy fill out the shelves. Robby arches his eyebrow when he notices six cans of LaCroix tucked into the door.
“What?” Dana asks. “Don’t knock it till you try it!” she says, smiling when Robby’s shoulders start shaking with laughter.
Dana shoves the fridge door closed with her shoulder and moves to the countertop, ready to start making dinner. It’s a simple meal – pasta with tomato sauce and chicken. A comfort meal. They go through the motions together, completely in sync. It’s almost like a dance, one that they know steps to by heart. In all the years in ER they’ve learned to anticipate each other’s movements, words, reactions. Robby’s heart clenches at the realisation how much he’s missed being close to her.
A delicious smell starts to fill the kitchen, accompanied by the sizzle of the pan and Dana’s soft voice humming a melody under her breath. Robby leans against the counter, unsure what to do, now that most of dinner’s almost ready. He settles on watching Dana; how her hair glows in the orange hue of the stove light, how her forearms flex when handling the pan. His eyes fixate on her tattoo, illegible now, in the dim glow.
“You’re staring,” Dana drawls, not looking at Robby. Before he has a chance to defend himself, she continues. “C’mon. You can do the greens while I finish here.”
There’s a scowl forming on Robby’s face but he swallows it down. These past few weeks his main source of nutrition has been Chinese from a few blocks down, or a pizza, if he was feeling crazy. With a heavy sigh he picks up the bag of spinach. The last thing he needs is a lecture on gut health and fiber right now. Though that would definitely be a much easier conversation than the one they’re about to have.
As much as Robby appreciates the company, and the dinner, he knows that’s not what Dana is here for. He’s well aware that she and Jack put him on their own suicide watch, even if they tried to deny it.
“I wasn’t going to do it here, you know.”
Dana’s fork hovers in front of her open mouth. She doesn’t need to ask what it is.
“I know you have the keys. I know Jack has the keys. I couldn’t– I knew I couldn’t do it to the two of you.” Robby shrugs. “To anybody, really.” He bites down on the forkful of pasta. “Wasn’t even gonna crash the bike. Didn’t wanna put anybody else at risk.”
There is a chance she’s going to regret the question that’s forming on her tongue, but she has to know.
“So how–?”
“I know where Duke keeps his guns.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Robby–” Dana’s fork drops to the counter.
“But even still, I couldn’t think of the right spot. And then the last day of work arrived and I realised I kept thinking so long of the ways I wouldn’t do it that I barely got time to properly think of the way I would.”
Robby isn’t looking at her. He’s pushing a piece of chicken around the plate.
“Well.” Dana swallows thickly, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m glad you’re still here. I–”, the words die in her throat. I’m sorry about what I said in July. I can’t imagine working in the ER without you. I don’t know who I am without you anymore.
Instead, she reaches out, covering his hand with hers. Dana’s thumb is running circles against the side of his pinky fingers, in a manner that’s supposed to be soothing, but instead it’s making Robby’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He’s not sure he remembers the last time he was touched with such affection.
Robby’s still sitting by the kitchen island when Dana hops off of her stool and gathers their plates. Once done loading up the dishwasher, she leans against the counter crossing her arms on her chest, eyeing Robby carefully, again. He wants to squirm under her intense gaze. He wants to look away, hide under his eyelashes. Instead he lets her eyes bore into his. He lets her see the exhaustion, the sadness, the helplessness.
In turn, Dana lets Robby see all those parts in her, too. She hopes he can see that he’s not alone in this; that it’s them, it’s always been them, together.
“C’mon,” Dana says gently, stepping towards him. There’s a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stand up and walk in the direction of his bedroom.
“You gonna tuck me in?” Robby asks, half-jokingly as they make their way upstairs. Dana catches the pleading undertone in his voice.
“Maybe, if you behave,” she quips. “Shower first, and I’ll think about it.”
The dinner and the company made Robby forget about the mess that was waiting for him upstairs – dirty clothes strewn around the bedroom floor, mugs crowding on the nightstand. Blinds half drawn, letting in the sickly yellow glow of the lamp out on the street. Lately he’s been dozing off on the couch, whenever his brain was generous enough to grant him a few hours of restless sleep.
“Fuck, Dana, I–” Robby speaks, ready to apologize profusely for the state of the place.
“Hey, no worries.” Dana’s hand is on his arm again. Has it always been this warm? “This has nothing on the mess two teenage girls can make,” she teases, her fingers tightening around his bicep. “You go shower, and I’ll take care of it. ‘Kay?”
Robby gives Dana a smile that’s both thankful and apologetic, heading towards the ensuite bathroom.
In a different life Robby would grab Dana by her hand and pull her into the shower with him. Press her gently against the wall, let the water wash over them both.
But it’s this life, and in this life Robby stands under the warm spray of water all by himself, absentmindedly running soapy hands along his body, Dana moving around the room on the other side of the door.
The bedroom is bathed in a warm glow when Robby steps out of the steamy bathroom. Dana’s perched on the edge of his bed, watching him enter the room. His hair is damp and ruffled by the towel, giving him a youthful look that’s long gone now. Swallowing thickly, she reaches for the corner of the duvet and pulls it back.
“Hop in,” Dana says with a nod of her head. Her voice is quieter than she would like.
A deep blush travels from Robby’s cheeks down to his chest and up to his ears, but he obeys. (He always does. He would jump into fire if she asked him to.) The mattress is warm in the spot where Dana sat. Robby can faintly smell her perfume when she tosses the duvet over his body. They both chuckle when Dana reaches out to secure the material under Robby’s chin. Her knuckles gently graze his jaw in the process.
Robby opens his mouth, then closes it. It's probably a bad idea, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore. He doesn’t even try to stop the thought as it appears in his brain, too focused on the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest.
“Stay?”
The look in Dana’s eyes is too difficult to read in the dim light provided by Robby’s bedside lamps. When she gets up from the bed Robby’s heart sinks at the sudden loss of contact, but then leaps up again when he realises she’s stepping towards his dresser. Dana rummages through the top drawer, retrieving a pair of boxer briefs and a t-shirt.
“‘Kay if I borrow these?” She holds the clothes up for Robby to see.
Robby nods and hums approvingly, nuzzling his head into the pillow. He watches Dana walk into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind her. A steady thrum of water accompanied by Dana’s soft humming, again, fills the silence of the bedroom. Despite his best efforts, Robby feels his eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Once done with her shower (God bless the floral shower gel left behind by Robby’s latest ex for saving her from the dreadful 5-in-1 concoction he uses), Dana steps into the bedroom again.
Robby’s on his side, facing the bathroom door. His eyes have drifted shut and his breathing is softer now, slower. Not wanting to disturb the silence, Dana pads softly to the bed across the carpeted floor. She turns off the bedside lamps; first on his side, then on hers.
“‘M not ‘sleep,” Robby murmurs, adjusting under the duvet.
“Shh–” Dana coos. “‘S okay. Sleep.”
A soft creak fills the room as Dana slides under the covers, faintly pressing her chest to Robby’s back, sneaking her arm around his waist.
It’s an innocent touch, Robby tells himself. A comforting gesture; reassuring. It’s just what they do – a steady palm on the back, or on the shoulder. An anchor in the eye of the storm that is the emergency room.
For a split second Robby wants nothing more than to turn around, gather Dana up in his arms and kiss her senseless.
He might be depressed, burnt out, and traumatised. But he’s not insane. At least not yet, he decides. So, he stays put, tucked into his side, enveloped by the steady warmth that was Dana’s body behind him.
“I’m glad you stayed,” Robby whispers into the darkness, his voice small.
A shiver travels down his spine when Dana gently places her palm over his heart.
“I’m glad you stayed, too.”