Page 65 of Crosscurrent

That nearly undid him. Because he knew exactly how much trust that cost her. He’d asked her outside without knowing what he intended to say, but suddenly the words were clear. He reached for her, cupping her shoulders and pulling her close.

“I can’t promise tomorrow,” he said quietly. “Not with this. Not with Norway.” He shook his head once, eyes searching hers. “But when all this is over… I’d like to think maybe there’s something on the other side of it for us.”

He watched her understand exactly how much that cost him to say.

Not the forever he wanted to promise. Just hope.

And somehow that felt even more dangerous.

The tension left her shoulders in one slow exhale. She smiled, a tiny grin, but it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’ll take it.”

Her response rocked him back on his heels, making his heart pound against his ribs. “You will?”

She pressed a finger to the zipper of his hoodie. “Yes, Mr. Sawyer, I will. I shouldn’t but––“

He didn’t wait for her to finish, just pulled her hard against him and kissed her. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t reckless. Just real.

And it was heaven.

When he pulled away, she was smiling. He wanted to kiss her again, but he knew he couldn’t. If he did, he might forget for a minute that Neptune existed.

A door opened behind them.

Wade stepped into the bakery doorway, gaze moving automatically across the alley, the opposite rooftop, the camera mounted over the loading dock. “Earth to Sweet and Sawyer,” he said dryly. “We should head inside. Neptune almost definitely has eyes on this alley.”

Cara exhaled once beside Gabe, quiet enough that he felt it more than heard it. The harbor fog drifted around them.

“Come on, kids,” Wade said again, softer this time.

Gabe took one last look at Cara before following Wade back toward the stairs. Upstairs, somewhere above them, Owen and Skye were probably still arguing about Arctic layering systems like the world wasn’t narrowing toward Norway one careful step at a time.

Monday, they’d start moving.

Tonight, for the first time in months, Gabe let himself want something he couldn’t put into an operational plan.

24

The kiss had been a mistake.

Not because Cara regretted it. Because she didn’t.

The basement looked exactly the same as it had looked yesterday. The Svalbard map still filled the center monitor. Flight schedules still covered the whiteboards. Tom was arguing with a laptop. Piper was unpacking breakfast. Reagan was making notes. Wade occupied the chair closest to the door. Owen had already disappeared into Ray’s notebook. Even Gabe was normal.

That seemed particularly unfair.

He stood near the security monitors with a mug of coffee, discussing flight windows with Reagan as if he hadn’t kissed her less than twelve hours ago. Maybe he was just better at compartmentalizing. Maybe federal agents got formal training.

The truth was probably simpler. Gabe wasn’t pretending nothing had happened. He just wasn’t letting it interfere with what needed to happen next. Which, annoyingly, was the mature response.

While the team tried to figure out the best way to both keep Owen and Skye safe and defeat Neptune in Norway, she’d spent most of the morning discovering she wasn’t nearly as mature as she’d assumed. Every time she looked up, there he was. Not doing anything. Just existing. Which turned out to be surprisingly distracting.

Across the room, Gabe glanced up. Their eyes met. His expression didn’t change. Neither did hers. But something warm and entirely unhelpful settled low in her stomach.

Great. Just great.

Cara took a sip of coffee, set the mug down, and looked around the room. The team was assembled. The world was still ending on schedule. Time to get to work.

A yellow sticky note was stuck to the nearest laptop lid.