The world around him is a blur of flashing red and white, the wail of sirens fading into the hum of his own pulse. Spencer sits at the back of the ambulance, the metal steps cold beneath his palms as paramedics press gauze to his wounds, murmuring words he barely hears. He should be focused on the sting of antiseptic, on the sharp pain lacing through his ribs, but all he can think about is a confession muttered to him days ago—a confession that lingers like smoke in the air, suffocating.

He doesn’t love JJ.

The truth sits heavy in his chest, heavier than the bruises blooming beneath his skin. She had looked at him with such hope, such desperate longing, but his heart had already been spoken for. Already wrapped in a presence softer than dawn, steadier than the earth beneath his feet.

And now, she’s here.

He can feel her before he even sees her, the weight of her worry pressing against him like a second heartbeat. He lifts his gaze, and there she is—standing just beyond the reach of the ambulance’s glow, her eyes wide, her hands twisting together as if holding herself back from running to him. The streetlights cast a halo around her, but there is nothing divine in the way she suffers for him. Nothing holy in the way she aches.

Spencer swallows hard, his breath unsteady. He wants to reach for her. Wants to tell her it’s okay, that he’s here, that he sees her.

Because he does.

He always has.