"Told you. Nothing serious."
We walk through the compound in comfortable silence. Past the ops center, past the training facility—she pauses, eyes going wide.
"Is that?—"
"Climbing wall." I grin at her expression. "Runs the entire length of the building. Three hundred feet of artificial rock, multiple routes, difficulty ratings from 'my grandmother could do this' to 'basically impossible.'"
"It's huge."
“Forest Summers designed it. He created Guardian HRS, and he's got a thing for rock climbing—says it's good cross-training for the job." I watch her face, the hunger in her eyes. "You should check it out tomorrow. Once you've slept."
"I might never leave."
"That's the idea."
We reach the residential complex. It's a cluster of buildings around a central courtyard—clean lines, good lighting, the kind of purposeful design that says safety without screaming military. Building three is the closest to the training facility. Evie's unit is on the second floor, at the end of the hall.
I stop at her door.
"This is you."
"This is me." She doesn't reach for the keypad. Neither of us moves.
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything." She steps closer. Close enough that I can see the exhaustion in her eyes, the dried tears on her cheeks, the way her lower lip trembles just slightly. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come to that cabin."
"You'd be dead." The words come out blunter than I intended. "The men who were guarding you—they had orders. Another day, maybe two, and?—"
"I know." She presses a finger to my lips. "I know. That's why I'm thanking you."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I want to." She replaces her finger with her mouth.
The kiss is soft. Tender. Nothing like the desperate heat of the crevice, nothing like the frantic relief of surviving together. This is something else—slower, deeper, a promise instead of a plea.
When we break apart, we're both breathing harder than we should be.
"I should—" She gestures at her door. "Sleep. Shower. Something."
"Yeah." I don't let go of her hand. "Me too."
We stand there for another moment, neither of us willing to be the first to walk away.
"Jon."
"Yeah?"
"When you told Rosie you were my boyfriend." Her eyes find mine. "Did you mean it?"
The question hangs in the air. I think about all the ways I could deflect, all the jokes I could make, all the armor I could slide back into place.
I'm tired of armor.
"Yeah." I lift her hand, press a kiss to her palm. "If you want me."
