It’s not the first time. Carver waits it out, taking deep breaths for Bossie to mirror. Steady in a way he’s craved deep in his soul but hasn’t been able to find, not for months. Maybe not for years. But the task is clear and his soul settles. He knows this shape.

Quietly, Carver leans in and presses his forehead to Bossie’s.

“I know,” he agrees. “None of this shit makes sense. But I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and we’re gonna be just fine. You believe me?”