She lay tangled in him, her body pressed close in an effort to absorb some of his ache. All night, she'd done everything she could to ease his heartache in the only way she knew how: by distracting him; by showering him in love, patience, and unspoken promises.

I love you.

I'm here for you.

But no matter how tightly she held him, she couldn't numb the awful pang that flared in her chest every time his hands traced her skin while his thoughts were so clearly consumed by Meredith. There was anger in his touch, enough to leave it's mark on her for days. There was a bitterness that lingered inside of her, burning her throat like bile, every time she thought of the damage Hurricane Meredith had caused today.

But she pushed it aside, because Rick needed her.

She forced herself to ignore the tightening in her throat when her reassurances that everything would be okay were met with nothing more than a solemn shake of his head. He knew his daughter better than anyone. Surely, he knew that she was smart enough to make the right decision. But maybe it was precisely that knowledge of his daughter—of her heart, and her vulnerabilities—that fed his unease.

"She's just a kid who loves her mother," he had murmured earlier, his voice heavy with something unspoken.

Kate's own conversations with Alexis rang faintly in her mind, unbidden. "Do you ever just feel... lost?"

Her chest tightened. Maybe there was more to all of this than she could ever understand.

"You're thinking very loudly," Rick muttered, his voice pulling her back to the moment.

"Sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss against his bare chest. She let her lips linger, as if the touch could calm the beating of his heart.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. "I never wanted you to get caught up in all this."

Something like guilt unfurled in her chest, mingling with tenderness. "It's not your fault, Rick," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

He shifted then, rolling to his side, his arm draping over her waist with a weight that felt equal parts grounding and pleading. He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers as if proximity alone could tether him to the present.

"All I wanted," he said, his words measured, deliberate, "was to come home to you. To spend a quiet night together. If I had known it would end like this…" His breath hitched in a sigh. "I should have known."

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his gaze soft but resolute. "This won't be our life," he promised, sealing the words with a kiss—a vow, warm and aching, against her lips.

Our life. It won't be our life.

She kissed him back, a quiet reassurance of her own. She wasn't running scared. Not this time.

His world was already so heavy, his mind crowded with too much worry, too much hurt. The last thing he needed was to carry the weight of wondering if she'd flee in the middle of the night.

She would stay—rooted, steady, and unyielding.

For him. For them.

Rick's tossing and turning had kept her awake for most of the night. Each time he woke, she was there—ready to soothe him, ready to care for him in the way he always, so effortlessly, cared for her. She remembered vividly how he had dried and brushed her hair after he told her about Pulgatti; the way he had surrounded her with pillows when she was recovering from her injuries; and his steady, gentle words when she had finally opened up about Adam. Every little kindness he had shown her was locked away in her heart, each one a reminder of how much he deserved the same care in return.

But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, she gave up on sleep entirely, dragging herself from the bed with a weight of exhaustion pressing down on her shoulders. Her stomach grumbled—a sharp reminder they hadn't eaten dinner the night before. She padded toward the kitchen and dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.

As the scent of coffee filled the air, she heard movement upstairs—the faint creak of drawers opening and closing, the soft shuffle of footsteps across the carpet. Martha hadn't come home last night, which meant it was Alexis. For a fleeting moment, Kate debated going upstairs to check on her, but she hesitated. Alexis wasn't her daughter, and Kate wasn't sure how far her place extended.

The toast popped up, startling her slightly. Pushing aside her concern for Alexis, she focused on the small gestures she could control. She spread raspberry jam onto the toast—Rick's favourite—and poured two steaming mugs of coffee. As she was arranging everything on a tray, the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor pulled her attention.

Rick appeared in the doorway, his hair a tousled mess, his hand rubbing at his eyes as he stifled a yawn.

"You could have stayed in bed," Kate said with a soft smile.

Rick crossed the room in a few strides, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "But you're out here," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

She laughed lightly, looping her arms around his neck. "I was coming back."

"Oh, in that case…" He stepped back, playfully tugging her along with him.

She giggled, pushing weakly at his chest. "I made breakfast."

Rick glanced over her shoulder. "You did?"

"Nothing fancy," she said, suddenly shy.

He moved to the counter, inspecting the simple meal. "I love raspberry jam," he said warmly, gratitude colouring his tone.

"You're too easy on me," she said. "I could have done more."

He shook his head. "Honestly, I'm not that hungry," he admitted, his voice apologetic.

Kate's concern flared. It had been at least twelve hours since he'd last eaten, but she pushed the worry down, masking it with a small, understanding smile. "There's coffee," she offered.

He picked up a mug and took a long sip, savouring it.

"Am I getting better?" she asked, hopeful.

"It's perfect."

Kate smiled and shook her head. "Don't lie to me."

Rick chuckled, shrugging. "It's improving."

Kate groaned. "You taught me how! I don't know why it never tastes as good as yours."

"Because I lied," he said casually, taking another sip.

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"This way, you need me."

Kate stared at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief dancing in her eyes. "You think I keep you around for the coffee?"

Rick smirked. "Good coffee, mind-blowing sex…"

But something about his words didn't sit right. He was posturing, trying to downplay the intensity of last night.

"Rick," she said softly, interrupting him.

"It's a winning combination," he continued, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Rick," she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

His smile faltered, and he sighed, the façade slipping. "I'm sorry."

Kate reached up, touching his cheek with her fingertips. "Stop apologizing. You have no reason to apologise."

Before he could respond, a new voice cut through the quiet.

"Dad?"

Both of them turned toward the staircase. Alexis stood midway down, a suitcase in her hand. The sight sent a jolt through Kate, her stomach sinking like a stone in shallow water. She glanced at Rick, searching his face for answers, but his expression was unreadable—his mask firmly back in place.

"You ready, Pumpkin?" Rick asked, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of sadness.

Alexis dragged her suitcase down the remaining steps. "Ready as I'll ever be," she said with a sigh. "I'm meeting Mum at Lafayette. We'll head to the airport from there."

"You need a lift?"

Alexis shook her head, smiling softly at her father. "I wouldn't subject you to another face-off with Mum."

Rick chuckled weakly. "I appreciate that."

Silence filled the space between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Kate stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do. Her mind raced, her chest tightening.

She's leaving. Alexis is really leaving.

"Meredith organized a tour of Atherton Prep," Rick explained quietly, as if to fill the void. "Alexis is going to stay with her for a few days. Check it out. Make an… informed decision."

"I should go." Alexis stepped forward, kissed her father on the cheek, then turned to Kate with a small, polite smile.

"Call if you need anything," Rick offered gently.

"I will," Alexis said, her voice soft.

And just like that, she was gone.

The door clicked shut, leaving behind an almost oppressive quiet.

Kate turned to Rick, her heart aching at the tension etched into his features. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," Rick interjected quickly, his voice flat.

But Kate could see through him. And even as she nodded, giving him space, she silently vowed not to let him carry this alone.

The loft felt too still after Alexis left. The kind of stillness that invited overthinking and unease.

Rick had been sitting at the table, staring at nothing in particular, for twenty minutes now. His coffee sat beside him, untouched.

Kate stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as she watched him. His shoulders were tense, fingers tapped against the tabletop nervously. His mind was so obviously a million miles from here, running wild about what Alexis might be thinking.

Kate grabbed her own coffee mug and walked toward him, stopping just shy of the table. "You know," she started lightly, "I was thinking about dragging you out for a walk today."

"A walk?"

"Yeah," she said, setting her mug down beside his. "Fresh air. Sunshine. All that good stuff."

"You think a walk is going to fix this?"

"No," Kate admitted softly, pulling up a chair beside him. "But sitting here and staring at the wall isn't going to fix it, either."

He finally turned to look at her, his blue eyes weary. "I just… I can't stop thinking about it, Kate. Alexis—she's smart, she's level-headed—but Meredith has this way of getting under her skin."

Kate reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "I just- I don't understand why you let her go," she said—or asked, maybe—trying to keep her voice judgement free.

Rick shook his head. "If I didn't, Mer only would have dug her heels in more. She's already got it in her head that I've been keeping her from Alexis for the past ten years."

He was cornered, didn't have any other choice but to let Alexis go and allow her to make the decision for herself.

"You know what? I actually should get some writing done. But don't feel obliged to stick around. You should go on that walk."

With that, he got up from the table and walked away, leaving no room for Kate to respond.