Something shifted.
Phei couldn't pinpoint when it happened—somewhere between the meteorite cookie and her third rambling apology for rambling—but something in his chest just... unclenched.
The walls he kept so carefully maintained. The constant calculation. The awareness of every angle, every threat, every way someone could hurt him if he let them close enough.
It all just... quieted.
Maya was laughing at something she'd said—something about how she'd once tried to make brownies and somehow set off the fire alarm in three different rooms simultaneously, which shouldn't have been physically possible but "apparently I'm just that talented at disaster"
—and the sound of it, bright and unguarded and completely unselfconscious, made him want to do something stupid.
So, he did.
"Come on."
Maya blinked mid-laugh. "What?"
Phei stood up from the fire pit bench, brushed cookie crumbs off his uniform pants, and held out his hand.
"Let's walk."
