"I noticed."
His dry tone almost made me smile.
Almost.
I looked toward the open shed door. From here, I could see the bright path, the edge of the tomato row, and beyond it the south fence where his land began. "The map showed the P-Patch like a community amenity."
Zane's eyes narrowed. "Of course it did."
"It wasn't drawn as part of the acquisition. But the route curls close. It makes the garden look like proof the project cares about community while the access pressure moves right beside it."
His jaw tightened.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You didn't draw the map."
"No, but I understood it."
"That's why you're here."
I looked back at him.
Zane lifted one hand and brushed his thumb under my eye, catching the damp place I'd missed. The touch was gentle enough to hurt.
"You came here," he said. "That counts."
My pulse moved under his thumb.
"We need to tell Monica more tomorrow," I said.
"We will."
"And Fletcher?"
His face hardened.
For this moment, in this shed, I only needed the truth sitting between us without breaking what we'd started.
"Fletcher doesn't get to hear this from anyone but me," Zane said.
"Okay."
"And you don't talk to him alone."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
My shoulders eased.
I touched his wrist. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
"I'm sorry my brother put you in the middle of this."
"He didn't know I was here."
"No." Zane looked past me toward the workbench, where my note sat beside the hours clipboard. "But he knew I said no."
