Especially if the virus had deployed during a rainstorm. There was no real proof that it could be carried by the mist in the air, but it attached to human fluids, and the disease was more prevalent in tropical areas, so . . .

Just the thought had her holding her breath.

“You okay?” Colt reached for a fry.

She forced a smile. “Yeah.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“What?”

“Please. I know you. You’re thinking about infection rates.”

Her eyes widened.

He grinned, then put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “Calm down. Me too. Let’s shrug it off.”

Right. Because now it sat like a burr under her skin.

“My dad used to tell this story about 9/11 and how he was on his way to work—he was teaching at Columbia part-time—and he walked through some of Central Park on the way. The day was gorgeous. Blue skies, autumn in the air. I’d just started fourth grade, and we were planning a trip to the Bronx Zoo. Then the world just—erupted. The first plane hit the tower, and it sort of boomed all across the island. He could only see smoke, so he ran the rest of the way to the school. He was watching on television when the second plane hit. He left work and headed to the hospital. It was a Level 1 trauma center, but the longer they waited for survivors, and didn’t get any, the more he realized that he couldn’t just wait. So he went down to the site. But by that time, the towers were down and there was chaos and . . . he couldn’t do anything. He enlisted five days later.”

Colt threaded his fingers through hers.

“I guess, now that I hear myself tell it, I might have done the same thing.”

“Hard to understand when you’re ten years old though,” Colt said. “People running toward danger, not away.”

She looked at him. Heard his words in the hospital. “We’re both driven by our hope to matter. To save lives.”

Maybe they did belong together.

Stop. Enjoy.

Overhead, the sky rumbled and suddenly six vintage World War II Navy planes blasted by them, maneuvering together. “They’re fighter jets,” Dodge said from the seat below them.

He was eating popcorn, a kid at the circus.

Noemi and Ranger sat next to him. Something had gone down between them because Noemi was all tight smiles today.

The jets simulated a couple bombing runs, complete with pyrotechnics, which had the crowd cheering. Then a plane flew overhead and dropped out a team of paratroopers.

“Someday I’ll tell you about the time my chute didn’t open,” Colt whispered into her ear.

She looked at him. “No. No you won’t.”

He grinned. “I lived. I had a buddy who—”

“Nope.” She held up her hand. “I’m starting to agree with Pete. The less I know about the danger—past, present, or future—the better.”