His breathing changes.
Tightens.
Not good.
Before I can move—
Hannah is already on her feet.
She crosses the distance in seconds.
“Don’t move,” she snaps, already checking him.
Clay exhales slowly.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I adjusted.”
“That’s called moving.”
Lucas snorts quietly.
Miles shakes his head.
I lean back slightly, watching the two of them.
Because there it is again.
That tension.
That spark.
That—
“You’re not cleared for anything,” Hannah says sharply.
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“I’m fine.”
She freezes for half a second.
Then leans in closer.
Close enough that only he can hear.
But I catch part of it anyway.
“Stop saying that.”
Not sharp this time.
Not angry.
