Jesse is already there when she arrives, leaning casually against the wooden railing near the stables, his posture relaxed enough to look unremarkable to anyone passing by. He notices her immediately, though, his focus sharpening the second he senses her nearby. He doesn’t look at her right away, keeping his gaze fixed on the far end of the street as a couple of patrol members pass between them, his expression neutral, professional, easy to mistake for indifference if someone didn’t know better.

When the space finally clears, he turns his head just enough to acknowledge her, eyes flicking over her face in a quick, practiced scan that notices more than he lets on. His voice stays low and even when he speaks.

“You’re late.”

There’s no real edge to it—just familiarity, concern tucked carefully beneath routine.

“Everything okay?”

Someone laughs nearby, boots crunching against gravel, Jackson slowly waking around them. Jesse shifts his weight, stepping just far enough away to keep things clean, to keep things quiet. To anyone watching, it’s nothing. To her, it’s restraint—intentional and careful, the kind that only exists when something matters.

She falls into step beside him. He keeps his hands to himself, shoulders squared, eyes scanning ahead, but when he speaks again, his voice drops slightly, meant only for her.

“We’ll take the long route today,” he murmurs. “Trail’s quieter. Less traffic.”

A brief pause follows, telling in its own way.

“Figured you might want that.”

When they reach the edge of town, where the noise thins and the trees begin swallowing sound, Jesse finally allows himself to ease. He glances at her from the corner of his eye, the tension loosening just enough to show something softer underneath. As he adjusts his pack, his hand brushes hers—brief and subtle, easy to miss if she wasn’t already paying attention, but deliberate all the same.

“Hey,” he says quietly, slowing his pace so they’re walking in sync, close enough that the secrecy feels less like distance and more like something shared. “If you’re carrying something, you don’t have to do it alone.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his mouth, gone almost as soon as it appears.

“Just… maybe not here,” he adds softly. “Later. When it’s just us.”