“Sure, darling,” he says quietly, as if he doesn’t care whether I hear him or not.
With a huff, I push past him to grab my jacket and shrug it on. At least, we’re going outside.
∞∞∞
I have mixed feelings about Central Park in March. There’s mud everywhere, joggers in neon leggings, and tourists who are pretending they’re not freezing because they’ve waited their whole lives to see this place.
I breathe it in anyway: the cold air, damp earth, and roasted nuts from a nearby cart. It feels like freedom.
Caleb walks half a step behind me, always within arm’s reach. He’s wearing a dark hoodie and a baseball cap, and blends into the city instead of standing out, despite his size. I can see his eyes darting around under the bill of his cap, though, assessing threats.
“Relax,” I murmur, glancing back at him. “You look like you’re escorting nuclear codes and not a normal girl out to feed some ducks.”
“I am relaxed,” he replies evenly. “And you’re anything but a normal girl.” The second statement comes out much quieter, so much so that I wonder if I imagined it.
“You need to practice looking relaxed in the mirror then,” I shoot back, focusing on the much safer teasing and not… whatever this is between us. He never used to call me nicknames or give me compliments. I wonder what changed.
We head toward one of the quieter paths. Ahmed’s cart is where it always is, puddles around it reflecting the cloudy sky.
“Miss Basia!” he calls. “You bring some muscle today?”
I gesture at Caleb. “My emotional support mountain. We’ll take some bird feed, please.”
Caleb hands over cash without comment while Ahmed scoops nuts, seeds, and peas into a small paper bag. People always treat my bodyguard like an authority, even when he doesn’t say a single word.
We walk on, crunching gravel underfoot, then scatter feed near the water. Ducks waddle over, greedy and unafraid, quacking like a drunk choir. A goose eyes us suspiciously from the edge of the pond.
“I don’t trust that one,” I mutter.
“Good instinct,” Caleb says. “Geese are assholes.”
I laugh, the sound louder than the ducks’ squabbling, and heglances over with an odd look in his eyes. The moment stretches until my skin prickles. I rub the back of my neck.
“Basia?”
Caleb moves closer, repositioning us so his body is angled between me and the path behind us. It feels instinctive. Automatic. Protective.
“I just got a feeling like…”
He looks around, moving his gaze slowly over our surroundings.
“Let’s walk back. Same pace. Don’t look around.”
My pulse picks up. “Why?”
“Because nothing makes a watcher more interested than knowing they’ve been noticed.”
My mouth goes dry.A watcher.
“You believe me?” I breathe.
His hand gently touches my lower back as he guides me to the path and away from the ducks.
“Ignoring instincts is a great way to die stupid,” Caleb murmurs.
I gasp, and he winces. “Sorry, darling. Shit choice of words.”
As we move, it feels like I’m forcing my brain to order every step I take.
