She stiffened, drew in a breath.
“I didn’t mean?—”
Then she laughed and nodded. “Yeah. Exactly like a spy. Call me Virginia.”
“Virginia?”
“Hall. She was a famous World War II spy who worked for the SOE and OSS and finally with the CIA.”
Now he was impressed.
“I read about her in a book I found at a hotel. I’m lousy with incidental information. You need a sidekick at a party, I’m your girl.”
He didn’t hate that thought. “Do you go to a lot of parties?”
“No. I don’t really . . .” She trailed off, seemed to catch herself. “I move around too much for parties. Or friends, really. Or anything that requires staying in one place.”
There was something underneath that. Something that sounded like loneliness, though she said it lightly enough.
“The military-family thing?” Dakota said.
“Yeah.” She looked at him as if surprised he’d remembered. “You never really learn how to stay. You know? You learn how to show up, make a good impression, figure out the social dynamics. But you never learn how to . . . belong.”
He understood that more than she knew. “Where did you stay the longest?”
“Germany. Three years, ages eleven to almost fourteen.” She picked at her napkin, folding and unfolding the corner. “I was hoping we might stay. I had friends. A favorite café. I was learning the language.” A pause. “Then my dad got reassigned and we left.”
“Did you keep in touch with anyone?”
“For a while. But it’s hard when you’re fourteen and everyone moves on.” She shrugged, but the gesture was too casual to be real. “I learned not to get too attached after that.”
The words sat between them.
“Is that why you inspect hotels?” he asked quietly. “So you never have to stay?”
Her eyes snapped to his. For a moment, the mask dropped completely—he saw surprise, recognition, something that might have been pain.
Then she smiled. Warm. Professional. Perfect.
“That’s very poetic. Mostly, I just like the travel perks and other people’s money.”
Deflection. He recognized it because he used it himself.
But he’d pushed too far. Asked too much. The door had closed.
“Fair enough,” he said.
The silence that followed wasn’t quite comfortable anymore. She pulled on her earphones. He picked up his book again, tried to read, couldn’t.
Ten minutes in, the captain’s voice came over the speakers, calm but no-nonsense?—
“Folks, we’re threading through some heavy weather for the next stretch. Seatbelts fastened, please. We’ll be riding it out.” The turbulence started shortly after.
Just a gentle shudder at first, barely noticeable. Then something deeper. The kind that made the overhead bins rattle and the drink cart pause in the aisle.
Jayden’s hand found the armrest. Held it.
“Just weather,” Dakota said. “It’ll pass.”
