Then again.
Not loud.
Not forceful.
Just—
True.
I exhale slowly, feeling the tension in my chest shift—not gone, not resolved—but different.
Rearranging.
Logan moves back to the table, giving space without breaking connection.
That’s the part that stays with me.
He doesn’t crowd.
He doesn’t withdraw.
He just… stays.
Steady.
Available.
Present.
Not pressure.
Not silence.
Something in between.
Something I’m not used to.
Boone starts talking again—something about movement patterns, timing disruptions—but I only catch pieces of it.
Not because I’m distracted.
Because I’m recalibrating.
That’s what this is.
Not retreat.
Not avoidance.
Adjustment.
Just not the way I’ve always done it.
My instinct is still there.
Pull back.
Reduce.
