Danica spoke of it in tight little sentences, the brushstrokes of someone long-since worn out by a subject. Then she talked about her plans for the new degree. Getting her feet back under herself, career-wise. Doing some traveling, maybe in a few years. She struck Dryden as someone trying hard to keep her focus aimed forward and not back—someone determined to be happy again, and working toward it as best she could.

He told her his own story, in broad terms. His time in the military. His life afterward—the good and the bad. When he talked about his wife and daughter, he heard himself lapse into the same tight brushstrokes Danica had used a moment before. It was always hard to tell someone about Trisha and Erin. There was no way to say that your family had died, without making that person feel miserable for you. He said it and then moved past it; he talked about the last five years, flipping houses in little beach towns up the coast from L.A. The feeling of making things beautiful again—of enjoying nearly every day, even the hard ones, because you were always making headway, getting things done. He told her about the big Spanish villa in Malibu, and the work it would take to bring it back to life. When he described it, Danica looked as if she were picturing the place, taking it in.

She shifted in her sleep now. She rolled her head to the left, facing him, her eyes still closed. A lock of her bangs hung past one side of her face, moving a little in the air from the dash vents.

He tried to remember the last time someone had had this much of an impact on him, this quickly. He’d been in relationships, on and off for a few years now, trying to restart that part of his life. When he’d begun dating again, he hadn’t expected to find the kind of connection he’d had with Trisha—they had met in high school—and so far, that expectation had been borne out. The relationships had all been fun enough, had all seemed worth trying, had all been just … fine. And with each of them, in the end, the lack of depth had been a mutual feeling. Every one of them had ended with a kind of shared shrug. This was nice. Take care.