Chapter 10: Trust

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Trust

Novaria glanced down at herself and grimaced slightly. "I probably look like I lost a fight with the hound too."

"You look fine," Jason said automatically, then reconsidered under her flat, unimpressed stare. "Okay. You look like you need a bath. Badly. No offense."

"None taken. I agree." She glanced toward the bathroom, then back at her own legs. "Which is going to be its own ordeal."

"I was going to fish the core out first," Jason said, tapping his chin theatrically, "but I’ve decided cleaning up my wife takes priority over cleaning up my paycheck. Truly, the sacrifices I make."

Novaria rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "How generous of you."

"I try."

"You could at least pretend it was a difficult decision."

"It was very difficult," Jason said, deadpan. "The core’s probably worth a lot. You’re worth more. See? Agonizing."

"Flattery," Novaria said, "will get you nowhere."

"Statistically, it’s gotten me this far," he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of them, and was rewarded with an actual laugh short, surprised, quickly stifled, but real.

’There it is. Worth the bad joke.’

There was only a small flicker of hesitation in her expression before she nodded, the humor fading into something quieter, and Jason understood it for what it was not distrust of him, but the discomfort of needing help with something this personal from someone she was still learning to lean on, husband or not.

"I promise I’ve handled worse than helping someone bathe," he said, keeping his tone light on purpose. "You’ve clearly never seen me attempt to cook."

"That bad?"

"I once set water on fire. Don’t ask me how. I still don’t fully understand it myself."

That was Jason’s attempt at a joke.

"That’s concerning on multiple levels."

"Extremely," he agreed. "So really, this is the safer of the two tasks."

That earned him a small huff of amusement as he crossed the room and carefully gathered her into his arms, mindful of her legs, adjusting until she was settled securely against his chest.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"As comfortable as being carried like luggage can be," she said dryly.

"Premium luggage. I’ll have you know I’m being very gentle."

"I can tell. You’ve barely dropped me at all."

"’Barely’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence."

He carried her into the bathroom, careful over the threshold, and set her down at the toilet first, stepping just outside the door to give her a moment of privacy, waiting in the hallway with his arms crossed and his eyes deliberately fixed on the ceiling.

’Nothing to see here. Very interesting ceiling. Truly captivating architecture.’

She called for him a few minutes later, and he returned, helping her the rest of the way.

’Funny. Sixteen years of avoiding vulnerability like it was contagious, and here I am elbow-deep in someone else’s.’

He ran the bathwater until it was warm, testing it against his wrist before easing her into the tub, working through the process with steady hands and quiet focus, none of the earlier joking creeping into his movements now.

’This isn’t something to joke through. Not really.’

Novaria was quiet through most of it, her earlier hesitation settling into something more resigned, more matter-of-fact.

"You don’t have to be this careful," she said eventually, watching him work. "I’m not made of glass."

"I know," Jason said, not looking up from what he was doing. "I’m not being careful because I think you’ll break. I’m being careful because you’re my wife and I’d like to keep her intact. Different motive, same result."

Novaria didn’t have a response for that one, and Jason chose not to fill the silence, letting it sit instead.

Once she was clean and dried off, he retrieved a change of clothes from the closet, and it was only as he sorted through the neatly folded stacks that he paused.

"You know," he said, holding up two different outfits, "our families really didn’t hold back when they furnished this place."

Novaria glanced at the closet and let out a short breath of something between amusement and disbelief.

"They probably felt guilty," she said. "Guilt makes for excellent shopping habits."

"Nothing says ’we’re sorry we ruined your life’ quite like a fully stocked wardrobe," Jason said, helping her into a simple change of clothes, working the fabric carefully over her legs.

"Truly touching," Novaria said. "Our forsaken little household, furnished with love and shame in equal measure."

Jason snorted despite himself. "When you say it like that, it almost sounds sweet."

"Almost."

"I choose to believe they just really like us."

"You choose to believe a lot of things."

"It’s a coping mechanism. Works wonders, you should try it."

Once she was settled against the pillows again, Jason lingered a moment longer than he needed to, just watching her get situated, before turning toward the door.

"Alright," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Wife: cleaned, dressed, and reasonably less annoyed with me than usual. Now I believe I have a corpse to loot."

"Romantic," Novaria said.

Jason smiled awkwardly.

He left to retrieve a knife from the kitchen, already turning his attention back toward the corpse still waiting in the bedroom and the core sitting inside it worth more than a passing thought.