Page 20 of Thor

It wasn't a question. My sister had always been able to read me, even when we were kids. No matter how carefully I constructed my professional façade, Amy saw right through it.

"He's . . . intimidating," I mumbled, adjusting the flowers on her bedside table unnecessarily.

Amy laughed. "You mean hot as hell."

I smiled shyly, caught. "Maybe that too."

"You know, for someone so smart with numbers, you can be really dumb about men," Amy said, leaning back against her pillows. "That guy is definitely into you. And you clearly haven't gotten laid in approximately forever."

"Amy!" I glanced at the door, mortified. "Can we please not discuss my sex life in the oncology ward?"

"Why not? Sex and cancer are the two most interesting topics anyway." She winked, then softened. "You look better today, too. Less like you're about to shatter into a million pieces."

I sat on the edge of her bed, relieved to change the subject. "You're one to talk. Yesterday you were gray. Today you've got color in your cheeks and you're back to harassing me. What changed?"

"Dr. Patel adjusted my meds," Amy explained. "The new cocktail isn't hitting me as hard. Still killing the bad cells, just not quite as determined to kill me along with them." She tapped the IV bag hanging beside her. "Plus, they're pumping me full of the good stuff to counteract the side effects."

We chatted about her treatment plan, the blog post she was working on about hospital food ("It's like they're trying to give us a second reason to die"), and how her online support group was growing. Amy had always faced challenges head-on, with humor and unflinching honesty. Even leukemia couldn't dull her spirit.

After about forty minutes, I noticed her energy flagging slightly. She still tired easily, despite her improved condition.

"I should let you rest," I said, gathering my purse. "I'll come back tomorrow with those books you wanted."

As I stood to leave, Amy grabbed my hand. Her fingers were thinner than they used to be, but her grip remained firm.

"Mandy," she said, her tone unusually serious. "If this illness has taught me anything, it's to take the chances life gives you." Her eyes held mine, no trace of her usual sarcasm. "That includes gorgeous bikers who rescue you in the rain."

I swallowed hard, caught off guard by her earnestness. "It's complicated, Amy. He's—"

"—exactly what you need right now," she finished for me. "Someone strong enough to handle you."

"Handle me?" I echoed, frowning. "I don't need to be handled."

Amy's smile turned knowing. "Everyone needs someone who sees them for who they really are, not just who they pretend to be." She squeezed my hand. "When's the last time you let anyone see the real you, Mandy? All of you?"

My heart thudded painfully in my chest.

Amy's voice was gentle as she continued. "You've been taking care of everyone else for so long—me, your clients, even those bikers. Who takes care of you?"

The question hit me like a physical blow. I'd never thought of it that way. Taking care was what I did. It was my role, my purpose.

"I'm fine," I said automatically. "I don't need—"

"Yes, you do," Amy interrupted. "Everyone does. And maybe Thor is exactly the kind of guy who could give you what you need without making you feel weak for needing it."

I looked away, unsettled by how close she was getting to truths I wasn't ready to face. "You've known him for all of five minutes while you were drugged to the gills. You're not exactly a reliable character witness."

Amy laughed. "I don't need to know him. I know you. And I know your eyes light up when you talk about him." She leaned back against her pillows, suddenly looking tired but satisfied. "Just think about it, okay? Life's too short to hide from the good stuff because you're scared."

I kissed her cheek and promised to return soon, but as I walked back to the elevator, her words followed me. The truth was, I was scared. Not of Thor specifically, but of what he represented—the possibility of someone seeing past my carefully constructed walls to the vulnerable parts I kept hidden. The parts Ihadto keep hidden, for the sake of my career.

"Keepthecaraslong as you need. I'll let you know when yours is fixed." Thor's words hung between us as he idled in front of my apartment building. The ride back from the hospital had been mostly silent, a strange tension filling the car like smoke. I mumbled thanks and climbed out, feeling his eyes on me until I disappeared through the lobby doors. Inside the elevator, I leaned against the wall, my heart racing from something other than exertion.

The day had knocked me off balance. Thor's unexpected appearance, Amy's knowing looks, the fact that this intimidating man had sat patiently in a hospital parking lot for over an hour just to drive me home—it was too much to process. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had—like he really wanted to protect me.

I stripped off my clothes the moment I locked my apartment door behind me, desperate to wash away the hospital smell and the confusing emotions clinging to my skin. The shower's hot spray pounded against my shoulders, loosening knots of tension I hadn't realized were there. I closed my eyes and saw Thor's face—those intense blue eyes that seemed to see right through me.

After toweling off, I reached automatically for my comfort clothes—pale pink cotton shorts and a soft t-shirt with a rainbow on it. Not full Little gear, but the gateway pieces that helped me transition when I needed to decompress. I'd planned to retreat to my Little room, to lose myself in simple pleasures and push away adult complications.

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