“Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t know what men like you are.”
The gears shrieked. She swore under her breath, corrected.
“The men I’ve dated have been fine. Nice, mostly. But none of them ever made me feel like this.”
She shot him a sideways look.
“None of them ever made me walk through a freezing river.”
She shifted her damp palms on the steering wheel.
“Or gave me their jacket.”
The jeep jolted over loose rocks.
“Or got injured by a drone and then argued with me about medical care.”
She wiped loose hair from her eyes. “You’re not like them.”
No response.
“You don’t say enough. You notice too much.”
She changed gears with a grunt.
“I don’t know what to do with that.”
She drummed her fingers on the wheel.
“You kissed me back, Pav. I know you did.”
The words hung in the space between them.
“Under the northern lights. You kissed me back and then you walked away and I don’t know what that means?—”
Her voice caught.
“—but I know what it felt like.”
An ache gathered in the back of her throat. “It felt real.”
She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “So you don’t get to die. Because I have questions and you don’t get out of answering them by dying. That’s not how this works. Not before I understand what that was.”
Her voice steadied again by force.
“I’ve got you. You just need to hold on long enough for me to fix it.”
The road straightened. More bloody, endless forest. More snow. The fuel gauge sat at less than a quarter tank. She chewed on her lip. One crisis at a time.
Ahead, the road forked.
She reached across and touched his wrist.
Hot. He was burning up.
She slowed, leaning forward over the wheel.
Left at the birch fork.
