June

The bus hums along the highway, the desert stretching out endlessly on either side. I’m still gripping my bag, nerves twisting in my stomach.

I glance toward the front. Vanessa, ever the chipper, has already settled into a seat beside Hermes, arranging his things like a personal valet. She beams at him when he glances up, and he nods once, almost absentmindedly, yet his lips twitch as if suppressing something.

My brow furrows. Why is he letting her do that? Why is he… soft with ...