"There—there's not a price for friendship, too, is there, Joe?" Mattie's uncertain and frightened tone clawed into Joe's heart like razor sharp talons. "No." He swallowed tightly and pressed his lips into her wavy tresses. "No price for friendship." Mattie sighed and drifted to the edges of sleep. Joe tightened his hold and stared into the darkness for a long, long time. When Joe awoke a few hours later, Mattie was still in his arms. Her quiet, shallow breaths brushed against the warm cord of his throat like the most evocative caress, and her head nestled trustingly against his shoulder. He shifted carefully to study her sleeping form. She was so pretty! She looked so fragile asleep and vulnerable in his arms. But now he knew that there was nothing fragile about Mattie Grey. Something hurt and lost and sad, but never fragile or insubstantial. She had survived a nightmare and somehow found an inner strength to carry her through the memories. Maybe she had lost a part of herself, as she had told him so desparingly last night.
