He would never ask her to touch him. She knew that just as well as she knew anything. It didn't matter how starved he was for contact or how much he needed it. It didn't matter if he was falling apart or turning to stone or freezing inside. He would never voice it. She wasn't even sure he knew the words.

What he didn't realize was that that was okay with her. She didn't need him to ask. She could feel it in her bones when he was tipping over the edge or his vision was blurred through the lens of his own demons.

She didn't agonize about it. Didn't question her motives or his reaction. He needed her and that trumped everything else.

Her hand found his, settling there like she was coming home. She knew the effect her touch had on him, could hear the hitch in his breath as his eyes slid shut for just a second. She knew that he was trying to commit it to memory, just in case. In case there came a day when she couldn't touch him. In case a day came when she wouldn't.

She wondered if he would ever realize that that day wouldn't come. Not if she had anything to say about it.

They were heading back to his truck, but her gaze moved to linger out on the water.

"You wanna take a walk?" she asked.

His own gaze was locked on their hands. "You don't have to."

She gave him a half-smile. "I know."

"You should be careful. A guy could get used to this."

"Maybe I want him to."

He squeezed her hand and let her lead him to the water.