“Yes, ma’am.”
She gives me a look.
I almost smile.
Her fingers press lightly against my side as she checks the wound, and I suck in a breath despite myself.
“Yeah,” she says quietly. “That’s what I thought.”
“Told you,” I murmur.
“You didn’t tell me anything useful.”
“Still didn’t.”
She rolls her eyes—but her touch softens just slightly as she cleans the blood away, rewrapping the bandage with careful precision.
Outside, the engines begin to rise.
The jet shifts.
We’re moving.
Inside—
It’s just us.
Again.
Even with the rest of the team here.
It always comes back to this.
To her.
“You keep pushing like this,” she says quietly, not looking up, “you’re going to crash.”
I lean forward slightly.
Careful.
Deliberate.
“Then don’t let me.”
Her hands pause for half a second.
Just enough.
Then continue.
“You’re impossible,” she murmurs.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “But you’re still here.”
She finishes wrapping the bandage, her fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Then—
