My grip tightened on the coffee cup. "It's what I do."
"I know." His eyes held mine. "That's not the part that surprised me."
Before I could respond, his radio crackled. He stepped back, lifting it to his ear, his attention already shifting to whatever report was coming through.
His jaw tightened. His hand flexed once against the railing before going still. When he lowered the radio, Nick Mercer was back.
"Tracks led back to the boundary," he said. "They're gone. Road opens in twenty."
"Good."
"Your flight—"
"Is being rescheduled." I set the coffee cup on the railing. I called the office while Daniel was driving.”
Nick's eyes narrowed slightly. "You delegated."
"I delegated."
The word sat between us, heavier than it should have been.
A week ago, I would have been on the phone with three different people, managing every detail from a moving vehicle.
Now I was standing on a veranda in yesterday’s clothes, watching a man I hadn’t planned for handle a crisis I couldn’t control.
The company hadn’t collapsed.
Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his shoulders shifted by a fraction. The perimeter lost him for half a second.
Sofia.
His thumb hovered over the screen, one heartbeat of hesitation before he slid the phone back into his pocket. His eyes cut to mine. “Later.”
"I didn't ask."
"You were going to."
I lifted my chin. "Does later work with fourteen-year-olds?"
His eyes dropped to the gravel before he answered. "She hates when I say I'll sort it."
"Why?"
"Says that's what adults say when they don't know how."
My chest tightened. "She sounds accurate."
"She's not wrong."
Across the yard, Elias was waving for Nick's attention. The sweep teams were regrouping. Whatever this was, it had run out of privacy.
"I should—" Nick started.
“Go.” I stepped back. “I’ll be here.”
He held my gaze for one more second. Then he turned toward the service yard, his stride lengthening before he reached the gravel.
His shoulders disappeared beyond the gatehouse, and the coffee cooled untouched in my hand.
