She looks up.
And just like that—
Everything else fades again.
Jet roaring.
Team moving.
Mission ahead.
None of it matters in that moment.
Just her.
Just us.
“You don’t get to die on me,” she says.
It’s quiet.
But it hits harder than anything else she could’ve said.
I reach out, my hand closing gently around her wrist.
“Not planning on it.”
“You don’t plan half the things you do.”
Fair.
I shift forward just a little more, closing the distance.
“You worried about me?” I murmur.
Her eyes flick to mine.
Sharp.
Then softer.
“Always.”
That does something to me.
Something deep.
Something I don’t have time to unpack.
So instead—
I tug her just slightly closer.
Not enough to pull her off balance.
Just enough to bring her within reach.
“Might be a problem,” I say.
