“New wheels will do that,” he says.
And that’s when I notice—the wheels aren’t worn anymore. They’re shiny. Practically new.
Did he? How could he have?Whywould he have?
“Did you?” I ask, my voice barely carrying over the hum of the airport.
He shrugs, casual. “I would’ve bought you a whole new suitcase, but you don’t seem like someone who tosses out the old just because one thing’s broken.”
And I don’t know why this hits me so hard.
Okay, I do.
He noticed something that made my life harder. He fixed it. Quietly. Without making it about him.
Without asking for anything in return.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, suddenly hyper aware of how crowded and noisy everything is around us. Like the rest of the world just snapped back into focus, but he’s still standing there, grounding me.
“I know,” he says simply. “I just didn’t want you to worry about it.”
It’s not a grand gesture. It’s not a big speech. It’s just a quiet little thing.
A fixed wheel.
Suddenly, I blink, and a tear slips down my cheek. Because it’s not just a wheel. It’s what the wheel means to me.
His eyes flick to mine, and he holds our stare until he moves, slow and steady, like he’s not thinking, he’s just feeling…And he lifts his hand.
I don’t flinch.
His thumb brushes under my eye. It’s gentle, warm, a whisper of skin on skin. The touch should be fleeting, but somehow it lingers. Heat arcs between us like a spark catching on dry kindling, and my breath stutters.
When he pulls away…something feels different between us.
“I’ll have to get used to that,” he says.
Get used to that.
The words buzz through my brain, firing neurons—or maybe electrons? Honestly, I never kept the science straight. I just studied enough to ace the test, then let it all swirl away in a frenzy.
Get used to that.
Like he’s already decided.
“At Christmas, you better make sure I don’t watch any of those clips when soldiers come home to surprise their family. I could cry for a straight month,” I tease, and I’m teasing about us, and Christmas, and…we haven’t even gone on a date.
But he doesn’t flinch at my words either.
“Noted.” Evan laughs, and then his phone rings.
“It’s Melanie,” he says. “I better take this.”
I nod, but I watch him as he stands silent, absorbing all the information Melanie is giving him. When he hangs up, he walks back over to me.
“Melanie sent separate cars. I’ve got to immediately go to a book signing, but I’ll see you tonight?” he asks.
And there it is. Words alive in the air between us instead of in cyberspace.
