I'm moving before I honestly trust my body not to give out on me and stretch out half on top of him. I hook an arm around his shoulder, uncaring of the asphalt that eats rivets in my knuckles, and pull him as tight against me as possible. The anxious, prickling knot in my spine is a seesawing mess between anger that he put us both through that and fear over what we survived. I don't know which side is going to win, so I bite my tongue and refuse to speak.
