There. Back on solid ground, easy as that. This is something he’ll have to do, he realizes now: keep busy with her. Have a purpose when they speak, when they meet. Otherwise, he’s starting to get the notion that he’ll say or do something that will destroy all of this goodwill they’ve miraculously been able to build up.

Or maybe not, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of his mind, presenting a perfect example of exactly why he needs to heed his own good advice. The moment their conversation had lulled, the what-ifs had come rushing in to trip him up. What if she wanted to kiss him much as he wants to kiss her? What if, as he’s been told and refused to believe, she doesn’t hate him much as she used to?

“Let’s get you out of here and into some fresh air then. B.O.B. know you’ve been skippin’ meals?”

He turns towards the door, putting her out of sight just long enough for him to catch his breath.