I don’t want to argue,’ she said quietly.
‘No, hey, no.’ He bent down until his eyes were level with hers. ‘We’re not arguing. I’m just worried about you, OK? I want to keep you safe. I love you, always will. No matter how many times you almost give me a heart attack or a nervous breakdown. It’s just...’ he drew off, his voice guttering out. ‘It’s scary, to know that someone might want to hurt you, or make you scared. You’re my person. My little one. My Sarge. And I’m supposed to protect you.’
‘You do protect me,’ she said, holding his eyes. ‘Even when you’re not here.’ He was her life raft, her cornerstone for what good truly meant. Didn’t he know that?
‘Yeah OK and that’s great,’ he said, clicking finger guns at her. ‘But it’s not like I’m a muscle man with biceps the size of tree trunks and a secret Olympic-standard knife-throwing habit.’