The evening was quiet, save for the faint hum of the TV in the background, a rerun of a football game that neither of you had any real interest in. Josie sat on the couch, bottle of beer in hand, the cold glass clinking as she took a sip, her eyes only half-focused on the screen.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her. The mission had dragged on longer than either of you had expected, days blending into weeks, and the dynamic between you two had shifted. Maybe it was the proximity or something else, but the lines had blurred. Josie knew why you were there. She always did. Your main goal was to keep an eye on her, to protect her—hell, maybe even to make sure she didn’t fuck things up.

The car keys, dangling from your hand, felt heavy. You didn’t need to glance at them to know they were there. Josie had tossed them on the kitchen counter earlier, when she’d returned from checking in with some contact. That’s what she did—always checking in. Always moving. She hated sitting still, and yet, she was doing it now, with you.

The TV screen flickered, a touchdown being replayed for the thousandth time. Josie shifted in her seat, catching your eye, the corner of her lips curling slightly, though her expression remained guarded. You both knew where this could go if either of you said something you weren’t supposed to.