(Rebecca's POV)
We walk out of the terminal together. His bag bumps against his leg with every step. My heels have stopped clicking too loud, or maybe I've just stopped hearing it.
Outside, the sun hits hard after the terminal's fluorescent light. I squint against it. Eric's hand tightens around mine — once, quick, like he's checking I'm still there.
I am.
I squeeze back.
For the first time in longer than I can remember, my whole body settles into something that feels exactly like where I'm supposed to be.
...
The cabin has one bed, a fireplace that actually works, and a window that looks out over a lake so still it doubles the mountains behind it.
Eric booked it three days after the airport. Said we needed somewhere with no phones, no lab, no fourteen engineers waiting for either
