She doesn’t move away.
Good.
The wind whistles softly across the ridge while engines rumble below us in the valley.
Nobody talks for a minute.
But I feel her beside me.
Every shift.
Every breath.
Every ounce of tension she’s trying to bury beneath that calm doctor mask.
“You’re staring,” she whispers finally.
“I’m thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
A rough breath almost turns into a laugh.
Almost.
“Depends what I’m thinking about.”
Her fingers still against the blanket in her lap.
Then quietly—
“What are you thinking about?”
I look at her fully then.
Probably a mistake.
Dust streaks her face. Exhaustion shadows her eyes. Her hair’s half falling loose from whatever was holding it back earlier.
Still the prettiest thing I’ve seen in years.
“You.”
The word lands between us heavy and immediate.
Olivia looks down briefly like she needs a second before meeting my eyes again.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
The wind shifts colder across the ridge.
Below us, one of the vehicles slows near a dry creek bed.
I barely notice.
Because Olivia’s watching me now with that same guarded look she gets right before she says something honest.
