He’d changed in ways he didn’t know a person could change. Sometimes he thought back to how terse and tightly wound of a human being he’d been before his escape from the Remnant Nation. In many ways he’d barely resembled a human being—at least compared to what he saw in Roxy. Where she was full of life and kindness and humor, he’d been like a dried-up turd in an old bucket. Something no one wanted, or wanted to be around. He had to be that way, he’d been raised and trained to be that way.

But no longer. He never wanted to lose his toughness, his hardness, his skills as a living weapon. However, Roxy had introduced him to an entirely new world, both literally and figuratively. As they crossed the wide-open spaces of mountains, deserts, and grasslands, he started to realize that it was okay, every once in a damn while, to feel some joy.

“Boo.” A tap on his shoulder.

She always tried this, but it was one of the many ways in which he hadn’t changed.

“Do you really think I didn’t hear you sneaking up behind me?” he asked without turning around. “I’m better trained than that. Also, sometimes you’re really creepy. I’m trying to have a private moment, here.”

She stepped up beside him. “It really is a sight, isn’t it? I’m sure glad you forced me to come on this trip.” She always tried that, as well. Being funny. “It’s been one of the best times of my life.”

“Yeah . . .” He faltered a bit, the brightness of the day dimming. This happened, sometimes. A lot, actually. Just when he was thinking about how much he’d changed, the darkness rolled in and tried to correct him. He never knew what might trigger it, but he felt it, now. A harsh thumping in his head and heart. A brutal beat to his pulse. Anger. For the smallest of moments he had the urge to push Roxy to the ground and steal her truck, take back his true nature, stop trusting her, assume she was the enemy. He didn’t want to laugh ever again.

“Minho?”

He looked at her. It took a mighty effort to keep his face still, his hands at his sides, his breathing steady. “Tell me about your husband again.”

She answered with a genuine smile. “He was a hard worker. He was kind. He was hilarious. He taught me how to cook but never expected me to do it. He loved roaming the woods, teaching me about plants, mushrooms, animals. He loved learning from me, too. We built that house together, you know. Yes, of course you know. He was a wonderful man, and I miss him every day.”

Minho nodded, breathed. “Someday I want to be like him.”