Richard Grantham stood as they entered.

He looked different now. Stronger. But his eyes softened when he saw her.

“Tasha.”

She smiled shyly. “Hi, Mister Grantham.”

He knelt down—not to intimidate, but to meet her gaze.

“You saved me,” he said quietly. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay that.”

Tasha shifted her feet. “I just… I didn’t want you to die.”

That made him smile.

“I want to help you,” he said, “the way you helped me.”