“You like lions?” I sank onto the couch beside him, pulling my knees to my chest.

He nodded, his fingers tapping against the arm of the couch as he kept his eyes on the screen. “They’re interesting.”

“What’s interesting about them?”

“The way they survive.”

“You think you’d survive in the wild?” I teased.

He finally turned his head, meeting my gaze. “No.”

A small laugh slipped past my lips. “At least you’re honest.”

But he wasn’t done thinking. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered back to the screen, watching as the lioness crouched low in the grass, her cubs huddled behind her. She would protect them with her life.

Blake turned his head again, looking at me in that way he did—like he was trying to figure out how much to say, how much to let me see. My fingers drummed against my knees as I watched his face, searching for something that would tell me what was going through his mind. But I already knew, didn’t I?

He didn’t smile, but something in his gaze softened.

“They don’t leave each other behind,” he said.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I held his gaze.

“No,” I agreed softly. “They don’t.”

Blake never said things outright. Never spoke about his feelings, never put words to the things on his mind.

But sometimes, in moments like this, he let the cracks show.

The narrator’s voice droned on, but I barely heard it.

We sat there for a long time, watching silently as the lions moved together—a unit, a family.

I tipped my head against his shoulder, just slightly, barely there.

“Have you ever felt like that?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Like…you’d do anything to protect someone.”

He let out a slow breath, his body finally relaxing against the couch. “Yeah.”

* * *

The rest of the summer passed in a blur of adventure. We rode our bikes down to Venice Beach, the ocean stretching endlessly beside us as we dodged tourists and overconfident rollerbladers. Blake had this annoying habit of making everything a competition, so our leisurely ride turned into a full-blown race.

“You’re going down,” I called over my shoulder.

Mom and Dad trailed behind us, Mom calling out warnings to ‘be careful’ while Dad just laughed, urging us on with a smile. “Don’t listen to your mom! Go faster!”

It felt like we were carving out our own little world, one where the past didn’t matter, and the future could wait.