“Harvard professor. Brilliant. The kind of person who sees connections other people miss.” His expression shifted—softer. “They shouldn’t work together. Everyone says that. The dyslexic mechanic and the Ivy League academic—plus she’s nearly ten years older than him. But they just…fit. She never made him feel stupid. He never made her feel cold.”
Morgan tried to imagine it. Two people from completely different worlds, finding a way to understand each other.
“They live in Florida most of the year now,” Lincoln continued. “But they’ll be back in Oak Creek soon. For Bear’s wedding. You can meet them. When they’re back.”
Morgan went still.
“I’ve never met anyone’s parents before.” The words came out smaller than she intended.
Lincoln glanced at her, puzzled. “Why not?”
“Because that’s what people do when—” She stopped. Started again. “When things are real. When there’s a future.”
She’d never been someone’s future. But she’d sat at that table at the Eagle’s Nest and watched his family make room for her without hesitation—Joy insisting Morgan eat the basket of fries, Bear’s easy grin, the way they’d simply expanded to include her. As if making room was what they did.
Lincoln was quiet for a moment. “They’ll like you. My mother will appreciate that you understand code structure and literary analysis. My father will just be happy I found someone who doesn’t think I’m strange.”
Morgan looked at him. At the sharp line of his jaw, the focused intensity of his gaze on the road, the hands that had held hers through the worst nights of her life.
“I do think you’re strange.”
He looked over at her. Uncertainty flickered across his face.
“I just like it,” she finished with a soft smile.
The uncertainty vanished. In its place, something raw. Unguarded. He held her gaze for a beat too long, and Morgan felt it land between them—the weight of what she’d said, what it meant, what they were becoming to each other.
He turned back to the road. But she saw his jaw relax. Saw his grip on the wheel loosen.
They drove in comfortable silence. The mountains loomed larger now, snow still clinging to the highest peaks. The road wound through passes Morgan had driven ahundred times before, back when this was just her commute. Back when her life made sense.
She saw the sign before she was ready for it.
Welcome to Whitefish - Gateway to Glacier
Lincoln’s demeanor shifted instantly. Shoulders tight. Both hands on the wheel, knuckles white. His eyes moving faster between mirrors. The time for interpersonal chatting was over.
“We’re in potential enemy territory.” His voice had gone flat. Hard. “We have to stay sharp.”
They weren’t two people on a road trip anymore.
They were targets.
Chapter 21
Four months ago:
Mercury: Do I exhaust you?
Binary: What?
Mercury: People exhaust you. I’ve noticed—your typing slows after you mention social events. You need recovery time. But we’ve been talking for three hours.
Binary: You don’t require translation.
Mercury: Translation?
Binary: With most people, I run a parallel process. Analyzing expressions, calculating appropriate responses, checking my words against social protocols. With you, I just talk.
