“Why?”
“Because you don’t mean them.”
I lean in closer, just enough that my breath brushes near her ear, my mouth close to her hair without quite touching. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Her breath hitches again.
“Then maybe you should start,” she murmurs.
I almost smile, but I don’t let it show. “Move.”
I step back, releasing her, and the loss of contact hits harder than it should. She steps forward again, more careful this time, her movements quieter, more controlled.
Better.
“Again,” I say.
She goes again, slower now, more aware. Step. Pause. Shift. No snap. No crunch.
I nod once. “Better.”
She glances back over her shoulder, a hint of challenge in her expression. “You going to compliment me now or keep pretending you’re not impressed?”
“I don’t hand out compliments for basic survival.”
Her mouth curves slightly. “So you are impressed.”
I step forward again, closing the space she just created. “You’re improving.”
“Wow,” she deadpans. “High praise.”
“You want praise?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Maybe.”
I lean in, close enough that the space between us disappears again. “You earn it.”
Her lips part slightly before she catches herself, clearing her throat and stepping back like she needs the distance.
Good.
Because if she doesn’t, I’m not sure I’d stop at just teaching her how to walk.
“Listening next,” I say.
She exhales slowly, rolling her shoulders as she tries to reset. “This should be interesting.”
I gesture toward the trees. “Close your eyes.”
Her brows shoot up immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Do it.”
“No.”
I step closer again, and this time she doesn’t move away.
“Trust me.”
