Unexpectedly, Bash drops to his knees in front of me. He rests his head in my lap and wraps his arms around my calves, letting out a deep, heavy sigh. I bow my head closer to his and trail my fingers through his hair. He smells like smoke and engine oil and the soft bristles against my fingertips provide a comfort. He grounds me. I breathe him in. I breathe my anxiety out. I breathe him in. I breathe my doubt out. I breathe him in. I breathe my fears out. Because with Bash at my side, nothing feels as terrifying.
