“Legs feeling a little weak?” Steve wondered as he worked on pancakes. Carefully and precisely. He could imagine they did after being in bed for as long as she was, knew they had to be with the help she’d needed moving around his small apartment. No doubt it would be a day or two before she felt strong enough to move around on her own.

It did seem to him though that trying to dance might be good exercise for unused muscles, and that might be what she needed. He didn’t say as much, wouldn’t want to imply he thought he knew any better than she did about it, or about what her own body was capable of.

He’d made it clear more than once that he’d be gentle with her if she needed him to be, but he’d let her tell him if she did. He had to trust her to know herself best and even when he thought maybe she was pushing herself too far, he knew better than to say it. All he’d ever needed to be sure of that choice was to imagine what he would say if, when, someone had made the implication he couldn’t handle something.

He would just push harder, and that wasn’t what he wanted to press her into doing with a wrong word.