She chews on that for a minute. "And they'll just… accept me? Like this?"
"No," I say honestly. "They'll question everything. Push you. Test you. But once they decide you're in? They'll burn the world down before they let anyone take you."
Her fingers flex. "You sound sure."
"I am."
Her shoulders gradually inch down from around her ears. Around noon, I pull off at a gas station attached to a diner that's seen better decades. The lot is mostly empty. Cameras are old. It'll do.
"Come on," I say, shutting off the engine. "You need real food."
She hesitates. "I'm not really—"
"Hungry, yeah, I know. You need it anyway."
Inside, the diner is warm, loud with fryer oil and the clatter of plates. A waitress with tired eyes and a kind mouth leads us to a booth near the back. Sloane stares at her laminated menu.
"Do you trust me to order?" She looks at me, startled. Then nods. She's too fried to make another choice. "Two coffees," I tell the waitress. "Two waters. One cheeseburger, plain. One grilled chicken sandwich, no sauce. Fries on both."
Sloane watches me as if I've just done a reckless thing. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."
"You weren't going to answer. This is neutral. You can pick it apart if you need to."
Her lips curve slightly. "You… do this a lot?"
"Make sure people don't collapse because they forgot how to take care of themselves?" I shrug. "Sometimes."
The food comes. She picks at it; pulls apart a fry, nudges the sandwich around the plate. Then she takes a bite. Then another. Half the sandwich disappears, along with a handful of fries. I file that away as a win.
She asks small questions between bites, testing the waters.
"Why don't you like flying?"
I snort. "Too much trust in too many idiots."
"Control thing?"
"Survival thing."
"When did you leave the military?"
"Years ago."
"Why?"
"Because they wanted me to do things for flags, and I wanted to do them for people."
She goes still; her gaze turns inward.
I ask my own questions. "What kind of nursing?"
She shrugs. "Trauma. ER. ICU. They move you where they want you."
"You liked it?"
"Yes." She pauses, and her mouth pulls tight at one corner. "And no. I like fixing things. I hate watching them break first."
I get that more than she knows.
