“Always,” Mina said. And she meant it.

“Come on,” Mina said, squeezing Elara’s hand and letting go. “Let’s get you some carbs.”

“Where…?” Elara whispered, her voice gravelly.

“Always,” Mina said again.

Elara blinked, then smiled—that crooked, sleepy smile that always made Mina’s chest ache. “You drove the whole way. You must be dead.”

Later—after the food arrived, after the waffle was devoured, after Elara stole a piece of bacon and Mina pretended to be annoyed—they walked back to the car. The sky had cleared. Stars pricked the darkness like tiny promises.