The door swung open, and Jamie stood there, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if you were real. His usually sharp, unreadable gaze flickered—relief, pain, something deeper flashing in his eyes before he masked it. But his grip on the door tightened, knuckles white.

"You’re here," he said, his voice steady, but there was something thick in it, like he was holding back a thousand words. A thousand emotions.

He stepped aside, making room for you. "Come in." His tone was calm, controlled—too controlled. Like he was afraid that if he let his guard slip, something would break.

As you hesitated, his eyes dropped to your stance, the way you leaned slightly, your body still weak from the accident. His jaw clenched. "You shouldn’t be standing too long," he added, softer this time, almost like he hated seeing you like this.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the house instantly wrapping around you. The air smelled like polished wood and something faintly sweet—like vanilla. Familiar, though you didn’t know why. Everything around you was pristine, perfectly arranged, as if someone had spent time making sure it was just right. As if someone had been waiting.

Jamie watched as you took it all in, his hands shoved into his pockets, tension radiating from him. "Your room is ready," he said, his voice quieter now. "You don’t have to worry about anything. Just… focus on getting better."

He turned, leading you down the hall, his pace slow enough for you to keep up. "If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll take care of it." A simple statement, but there was weight behind it. A promise.

When you reached the room, he pushed the door open and stepped aside. "This is yours now." He hesitated, lingering in the doorway, something unreadable in his gaze. His fingers flexed at his sides, as if he wanted to reach for you but knew he shouldn’t.

Then, finally, he spoke again—quieter this time. "I meant what I said back then." A pause. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "It’s good to have you here."