Olivia’s expression cools another degree.
“You’ve been acting different since last night.”
My jaw tightens instantly.
Bad topic.
“Last night didn’t happen.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I want them back.
Too late.
Something flickers across her face.
Small.
Quick.
Still enough to hit harder than a bullet.
“I understand,” she says softly.
No anger.
That would’ve been easier.
Just distance.
Controlled. Professional distance.
She nods once. “I’ll get everyone ready.”
Then she turns and walks back toward the shelter before I can stop her.
Not that I should stop her.
This is better.
Cleaner.
Necessary.
So why does it feel like I just made a mistake?
“You handled that beautifully.”
Miles appears beside me, voice dry with sarcasm.
“Shut up.”
“Oh, absolutely not.” He crosses his arms against the cold. “You almost kissed the woman six hours ago and now you’re acting like she tried to hand you a live grenade.”
“She’s a distraction.”
Miles snorts. “Sure.”
“She is.”
