His arm slides around her shoulders and she almost relaxes, a little of the tension slipping out of her at the warmth of him, the press of him against her. She tucks her head into the crook of his neck and just tries to breathe, breathes him in and tries to banish the memories that are haunting her. She doesn’t know how to answer his question. Doesn’t know if she’s okay or not. So she bites her lip and shrugs a little.

“Not sure,” she says finally, voice muffled against him. “Bad memories. The cold always brings them up.” But she feels safe with him. Feels warm and protected. So she might not be okay, but she’s getting closer to it, here with him.