"You'd want the same, if it were you an' yers," Wyatt told her, unfazed by her exasperation. Almost daring her to deny it.

He reached for Max, an arm wrapping firmly around the man's waist. Support, to appease the docs; touch, to appease himself.

(Still there. Still real.)

"Come on, Max," he said, looking back, blue meeting blue. "Yer almost home."