So while she was relieved that the day would finally begin, she was terrified. Because the worst that could happen wasn’t that she’d simply meet Ephraim’s mother and walk away. The worst that could happen was that Ephraim found her, because if he did he’d kill everyone around her.

And that included the man who’d slept with his arms around her all night long. He hadn’t demanded anything. His hold had been frustratingly platonic. Because he knew she wasn’t ready.

Rafe Sokolov was a good man. She’d known they existed. She still believed it. Her experience in Eden hadn’t soured her to the possibility of good in people.

But even though Rafe Sokolov made her feel so damn safe, he scared her, too. Or, at least, what he made her feel scared her. She’d lain there for hours, afraid to move, when all she really wanted was to turn in his arms and let him show her what she’d been missing her whole life.

It wasn’t just sex, although that was a huge part of it. What she really wanted was intimacy. Vulnerability.

Trust.

She trusted Rafe and that was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all. Not because she was afraid he’d betray her. He wasn’t built that way. She’d known it even as she’d sat at his bedside while he recuperated from surgery. He’s a good man.

But if she let him in, then lost him? She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

“You are thinking so hard that you woke me up,” he mumbled behind her, kissing her shoulder, covered in her TARDIS pj’s. They’d been a Christmas gift from Rory and Jack-Jack, but the Doctor Who–themed gift tag had been written in Farrah’s pretty handwriting. Because they can’t write, she’d said laughingly.

I’m so lucky. I have friends who love me. So even if this thing with Rafe crashed and burned, she wouldn’t be alone. But it wouldn’t be the same.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rafe lifted up on his elbow to kiss her temple. “You’re shaking, Mercy. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to go to Santa Rosa. Nobody will be angry if you change your mind about seeing Burton’s mother.”

She swallowed hard. “I guess I am transparent.”

“Maybe a little. But maybe there’s more to it?” He tightened his arms around her, skirting the line between pain and comfort, but somehow managing to stay on the comfort side while giving her the little jab she needed to break the panic cycle.

She hadn’t even been aware it was happening. Of course it had been, though. She’d been panicking throughout all the hours she’d lain awake. She relaxed then. A little. “I guess I’m not used to . . . this,” she finished, suddenly awkward.

He immediately loosened his hold, but she covered his arms with hers and pulled them back. “Don’t go. I mean . . .” He was quiet behind her, giving her the time and space she needed to put words to her thoughts. “I like it, you holding me like this. I’m not used to it, though.”