Page 140 of Honeyfires

"Tuesday," she agreed.

I pulled out of the parking lot, heading home. The desert spread out around San Jacinto in every direction, vast and patient and entirely indifferent to all of it.

"I'm so proud of you," I said. "And so scared for you."

"I know." She brought my hand to her lips. "But I'd do it again. Diana gave me a lane, and I drove in it. That's not reckless. That's fighting."

I couldn't argue with that. I'd never been able to argue with her when she was right, and she was right more often than I was comfortable admitting.

"Thank you," I said. "For fighting."

"Always," she said. "Now take me home. I've been stress-eating Becca's sympathy muffins all day, and I need actual food."

That night I couldn't sleep.

I lay staring at the ceiling, turning Tuesday over in my mind, running every possible outcome, every piece of evidence Diana had assembled, every crew statement that might go for me or against me.

"You're overthinking again," Vera murmured without opening her eyes. "I can feel it from here."

"Sorry," I whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"Not until you stop spiraling." She rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one elbow. "What's going on in that beautiful, catastrophizing brain of yours?"

"Everything. The hearing. Your job. Sarah not speaking to you. Henry. The board. Whether the article actually helped or just made everything louder—"

"Diana thinks it helped." She pressed a finger to my lips. "And Diana is terrifying and competent and right about most things. So we trust that."

"What if the board doesn't—"

"Breathe," she said simply.

I took a breath. Then another. She watched me with those blue eyes, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek.

"We're going to be okay," she said. "I don't know how yet. But we will be."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because we have each other." She smiled a small, beautiful smile that made my heart clench. "And that's enough to build everything else on."

Something about the absolute simplicity of it, the way she said it like it was just true, the way the desert was hot and the sky was full of stars—made something loosen in me. Before I knew what I was doing I was laughing. Actually laughing, for the first time in weeks.

Vera lifted her head. "What's so funny?"

"You." I laughed harder. "You're so certain we'll be okay, and I love you for it, even though I think you might be slightly crazy."

She started laughing too, a bright giggle that made her nose scrunch up adorably. "I'm definitely crazy. Crazy about you."

"That was terrible."

"I know." She was grinning now, that full, unguarded smile that made my heart stutter. "But you're laughing, so it worked."

Our laughter tangled together in the darkness, two people finding joy in the middle of chaos, finding each other when everything else was falling apart. And then, because I couldn't help myself, because she was so beautiful when she laughed, I reached out and tickled her sides.

"No!" She shrieked, trying to twist away. "Petra, don't you dare—"

But I was already tickling her mercilessly, my fingers finding every sensitive spot I'd learned over all these last months together. She shrieked again, dissolving into helpless laughter, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fight me off.

"Stop! Stop, I can't—I can't breathe—"