Page 66 of Silent Shadows

Her eyes narrow. “You know how I take my coffee.”

“I remember things.”

“That’s boyfriend behavior for a man who I know is reading comics at night.”

“That feels unrelated.”

But the truth is, I did remember. Not intentionally. My brain just cataloged it somewhere between her making fun of me for labeling spices and her almost falling asleep at her laptop on the floor last night.

Oat milk. One sugar.

Tiny details attaching themselves to me before I can stop them. Before I can tell her to run before we both fuck up our careers. Or to run because I’m not relationship material.

By the time the rest of the crew wakes up, Daisy’s already perched beside Maya at the dinette reviewing maps. Well. “Reviewing maps” is generous.

She’s mostly asking questions while Maya tries to explain topographical markers without sounding like she’s teaching a geography class against her will.

“So these lines mean elevation?” Daisy asks.

“Yes.”

“And these?”

“Water access.”

“And these?”

Maya looks up flatly. “More elevation.”

Taylor wanders out of the bunk area mid-conversation, wrapped in a blanket.

“Morning, goddesses,” she says. Neither of them reacts. Daisy’s adapting.

By the afternoon, I keep catching myself looking for her even though she’s never more than ten feet away. She’s helping Jax organize memory cards while he explains drone-footage stabilization as if he’s teaching a college course titled Adrenaline Problems 101.

“No, see, the issue is most people overcorrect movement,” he says, pulling up footage. “You gotta let the shot breathe.”

Daisy leans over his shoulder. “That sounds very LA.”

“It’s art.”

“You fly cameras into canyons for fun.”

“Exactly.”

Strangely enough, watching Daisy mesh with the others settles something in me.

Because I expected resistance. Distance. Maybe judgment.

Instead, she’s folding herself into the rhythm of the team piece by piece. She’s even cracking jokes the entire time, which seems like a way to deflect from what’s really happening here. It’s not lost on me that Daisy being with us is a steep departure from the content she’s known for. I haven’t asked her why she chose this, and why us. But I want to.

Especially when I watch as Taylor starts teaching her how to maneuver off-road. Badly.

“Okay,” Taylor says, crouched beside a tire track in the dirt. “See how the ground feels?”

Daisy stares at her. “No.”

“You gotta feel it spiritually.”