DAMIEN'S POV
We drove to Oregon on a Saturday morning with the windows down.
Elara had a playlist. Unhurried songs, nothing dramatic, the kind of music that exists comfortably in the background of good moments. She had her feet on the dashboard for the first hour until the temperature dropped near the coast and she put them down and pulled on a sweater.
We didn't talk much. It wasn't uncomfortable silence. It was the kind that happens between people who don't need to fill space.
Harrow Point came into view around noon. White building on a bluff, weathered in the specific way coastal things weather, surrounded by low grass that moved constantly in the wind off the water. Della met us at the entrance with the energy of someone who took genuine pleasure in their work.
"You're the last to
