Mom laughs, the sound shaky and bright. “Nora,” she whispers, voice trembling, “I’m flying.”
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper. Because she sounds… young. For one brief moment, she doesn’t sound weighed down by fatigue or numbness or stairs or the long list of things her body won’t let her do anymore. She’s simply in the world again. The drone banks gently, and the view shifts to a pond shimmering in the sun like glass. A walking trail appears below us with two cyclists meandering along the path while a dog drags its owner toward a stick.
Mom’s laughter softens into something quieter. “I forgot I could feel like this.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I sit there, goggles on, heart pounding wildly. I can’t see Miles, but I can feel him beside me. He didn’t just agree to a favor. He built my mom a door back into the outdoors. And I hate how much that means.
The drone dips low, skimming the tops of the grass before lifting again, smooth and controlled. He’s not showing off. Just giving her the view. After a few gentle loops around the field, he lands the drone softly in the grass in front of us.
Mom pulls off her goggles with trembling hands. Her eyes shine, and her cheeks are flushed. She looks as if she’s returned from a place she didn’t think she’d ever get to visit again. “I haven’t felt that free in…” Her voice wavers. She clears her throat like she’s mad at it. “In a long time. This was my favorite day.”
Miles unhooks the controller from the lanyard around his neck and sets it down carefully on the table a few feet away. “Anytime you want, we can do it again. It’s kind of fun to fly with others.”
A rubber band grips my chest. This is the kind of man I don’t know what to do with. The kind who shows up and pays attention. “Thank you.” The words come out rougher than intended.
He shrugs, but there’s a softness to it. “It was nothing.”
I push to my feet and meet him at the table. My gaze lingers on Mom for a second as she has her head tilted back, soaking up the sun. Slowly, I turn back to Miles and lower my voice. “It was everything.” His expression shifts—surprise flickering first, then to something softer. “I haven’t seen her smile that big in a long time,” I add, because if I don’t say it, it’ll sit in my throat like a weight.
He meets my gaze and smiles. Not flirtatious, just a soft curve that’s equal parts friendly and sincere. “What do you say?” Miles holds out the controller to me. “Do you want to fly?”
I laugh immediately. “Absolutely not. If I touch it, I’ll break it.”
He grins. “It’s practically impossible to break one of these.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is that a challenge?”
“No. But,” he adds, lifting a second controller slightly, “I have a backup. If anything goes wrong, I flip a switch and take over.”
I glance at my mom. She’s watching us with far too much interest and gives me an encouraging nod. Traitor. “Okay,” I say carefully. “I’ll try it.”
Miles slips a lanyard over my neck and clips it to the controller. “This stick controls altitude—up and down.” His warm hand settles over mine, and my body lights up like someone hit the on switch. Absolutely not. This is strictly educational. “And this one is left and right. You can use them at the same time.”
“So… like video games?”
“Kind of.”
A laugh escapes me. “I should warn you, I have zero coordination. I once got myself stuck in a corner playing Halo.”
“How?”
“Pure talent.” I shrug.
A quiet chuckle rumbles out of him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
He hands me the FPV goggles. The foam padding presses softly against my face as I slide them on. The world disappears, replaced by open sky and green stretching endlessly in front of me. I ease the stick upward, and the drone shoots into the air.
“Oh my god!” My fingers tremble against the sticks.
“Easy,” he murmurs, drawing the word out. “Just guide it.”
I nudge the joystick, and the drone glides sideways. “Oh wow,” I breathe. “Okay. This is kind of amazing.”
We drift over the open field, the faint hum of the drone blending with the wind brushing my arms and the warmth of the sun settling across my shoulders. Then Miles steps closer. Really close. His chest brushes my back, his body aligning with mine. His hands slide over mine again, the pads of his thumbs resting lightly against my knuckles as he adjusts my grip. Why is it suddenly ninety degrees outside?
“Like this,” he murmurs near my ear, his breath warm against my skin.
His words fade into static. All I register is how close he is—the warmth of him, the brush of his breath against my cheek when he shifts, the steady weight of his hands anchoring me in place. My throat tightens as my pulse flares everywhere at once: my wrists, my neck, the soft space beneath my ribs. I blink once, as if it might reset me. It doesn’t. There’s only him—and my body reacting as if it hasn’t been this close to someone in years.
