Dove walked back inside the mall, the cold, artificial air a stark contrast to the heated exchange she had just witnessed between El and Mike. She tossed the remains of her ice cream cone into the nearest trash can as she made her way back toward Scoops Ahoy.
The food court buzzed with life—kids laughing, parents juggling shopping bags, and the ever-present hum of arcade machines in the distance. The neon lights and bustling shops brought an odd sense of calm. Something about the mundanity of it all felt like a welcome distraction, grounding her after the whirlwind of emotions outside.
As she passed by the corridor leading to the office wing, something caught her eye. Danny was stepping out of the law office, clutching a file tightly to his chest. She paused mid-step, her brow furrowing as she watched his brisk movements, his face contorted into an expression she had never seen on him before—a mix of fear and stark determination.
Before she could second-guess herself, Dove took a breath and started toward him, her steps quiet but purposeful. "Danny?" she called, her voice cutting through the low hum of the mall.
He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, his eyes darting toward her before the guarded look in his eyes flickered, replaced with a tight smile. "Dove," he said, his tone neutral but edged with something akin to surprise—or was it annoyance?
Dove stopped a few feet away from him, her arms crossing instinctively as she studied his face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. She glanced at the file clutched against his chest. "I thought the office was closed on weekends."
Danny hesitated, his grip on the file tightening slightly. "It is," he said, his voice steady but a little too quick. "I just.. forgot something. Needed to grab it before Monday." He gave her a tight smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What about you? Mall's not exactly your scene."
Dove raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the deflection. "I'm here with my brother. He's at the ice cream parlor with a friend of ours." She motioned vaguely toward the food court, her eyes flicking back to the file. "What's in there?"
Danny's expression shifted, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he schooled it back into neutrality. "Just case files," he said simply. "Nothing exciting." His tone was casual, but Dove wasn't convinced. Before she could press further, Danny cleared his throat and changed the subject. "By the way, do you have that Russian translation book? It wasn't at the office."
Dove frowned, her brows knitting together as she thought back. "The translation book? I—" She paused, eyes darting to the ground as she tried to remember. "I might've accidentally taken it home. It's probably in my bag."
Danny exhaled sharply, his frustration flickering for a moment before he nodded, his neutral mask slapping back into place. "Okay, cool," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "No worries. I'll just grab a new one from the book store quick."
Dove shook her head, her frown deepening. "You don't need to do that. I'll just bring it to work tomorrow."
Danny hesitated, his grip tightening slightly on the file he was holding. "It's no big deal," he said, his voice a little too quick, a little too tight. "I just wanted to get a head start."
Dove's eyes narrowed as she studied Danny. He was good at lying—exceptionally good—but she'd always had an uncanny ability to see through people. It wasn't just a gut feeling; it was as if their emotions were written out for her to read, no matter how carefully they tried to hide them. And right now, Danny's mask was slipping, no matter how tightly he tried to hold it in place.
His grip on the file loosened, and his jaw clenched ever so slightly as her gaze lingered on him. Finally, he seemed to grow uncomfortable under the weight of her scrutiny and, with an almost forced casualness, opened his bag to shove the file inside.
As he adjusted the bag's contents, something shifted—and Dove's eyes caught a glimpse of cold, matte metal. Her stomach clenched as her brain registered the unmistakable shape of a handgun tucked into the corner of his bag.
"Anyway," he said quickly, zipping his bag shut, "have you eaten yet? I was about to grab a late lunch. You in?"
Dove's mind raced, her thoughts a blur of questions and unease. She forced herself to meet his gaze, her smile faltering as her eyes darted briefly to the bag at his side. "I, uh.." she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest. "I appreciate it, but I should get back to my brother."
Danny's smile faltered briefly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long before he nodded. "Alright. Another time, then." He slung the bag over his shoulder, the movement calm and deliberate, but Dove couldn't unsee what she'd already seen. "See you tomorrow," he said casually, turning to walk away.
"Yeah, see you," Dove replied, her voice steady despite the uneasy knot in her stomach.
Danny's footsteps echoed faintly against the mall tiles as he walked away, blending into the bustling crowd. Dove stood frozen for a moment, her gaze following him, her mind racing. She replayed the fleeting glimpse of the gun in his bag, trying to piece together what it could mean. Danny wasn't someone she'd ever associated with weapons or danger. Until now.
She tried to rationalize it. Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe she'd imagined it. But deep down, she knew she hadn't.
She forced herself to move, weaving through the throng of shoppers. When she pushed open the doors to Scoops Ahoy, the bell overhead jingled softly. The bright, nautical-themed shop was mostly empty, save for a couple in the far corner booth. Steve was behind the counter, wiping it down with a damp rag. He glanced up at the sound of the door, his face lighting up with an easy smile.
"Back already?" he teased, slinging the dishrag over his shoulder. But as she approached, his smile faltered, replaced with a slight frown. "Hey, what's wrong?"
Dove hesitated, glancing over her shoulder instinctively. The mall crowd bustled by, none of them paying her any mind. She realized how ridiculous her paranoia was but still felt her chest tighten. Turning back to Steve, she plastered on a smile that she hoped was convincing. "Nothing," she said breezily, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Steve didn't look convinced, but before he could press further, Dove spoke again, changing the subject. "Where's Dustin?"
The concern etched into Steve's face didn't fade at her attempt to deflect. If anything, it deepened, though now it was tinged with something else as she mentioned Dustin —amusement and, perhaps, a little annoyance. He jerked his thumb toward the back room and nodded for her to follow him.
When they reached the door, Steve stopped just short of pushing it open. He turned to face her, his expression softening slightly, though his tone still carried a hint of exasperation.
"For the record," he began, his voice low, "I told them this was nonsense."
Dove blinked at him, confused. "What's nonsense?"
Steve didn't answer, instead leaning his back into the door and pushing it open. The door swung inward, revealing a scene that made Dove stop in her tracks.
Dustin sat at a small table in the middle of the room, flipping through a book with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for Dungeons & Dragons manuals. A whiteboard hung on the wall, covered in the neatly scrawled Russian alphabet with the English translation underneath each letter. Robin was pacing back and forth nearby, a small pad of paper clutched in her hand, mumbling something under her breath as she glanced between her notes and the board.
They both looked up as Steve and Dove entered, their expressions a mix of guilt and defiance—like kids caught red-handed with their hands in the cookie jar.
"What the hell?" Dove muttered, narrowing her eyes at the board, her interaction with Danny momentarily forgotten. Her gaze swept the room before landing on Dustin, and her eyes narrowed further as she recognized the book he was holding.
It was the Russian translation book.
Dustin noticed her focus shift and immediately tried to hide the book, shoving it behind his back like it would somehow erase the evidence. Dove folded her arms, her stance firm and unimpressed.
"Dustin," she said, her tone sharp and laced with accusation. "Is that what I think it is?"
Dustin hesitated, his wide eyes darting to Steve and Robin as if they might have an escape plan. He let out a nervous laugh, stuttering, "What n—no. I mean—maybe. What, uh, what do you think it is?"
Dove didn't respond, didn't even raise an eyebrow. She just gave him the look—the one that always made him fold like a cheap deck of cards. Dustin sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping as he flicked the book onto the table with a resigned groan.
"I reprimanded it as a matter of national security," he defended, his tone overly serious, as if that would make her less angry.
Dove rubbed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. "Please tell me," she started, her voice steady but laced with a dangerous edge, "that this isn't about that Russian shit we found last night."
Dustin shifted in his seat, glancing at Robin, who gave him a shrug as if to say, Your funeral.
"Well," Dustin began, drawing out the word in a way that immediately made Dove's stomach sink. "What if it was?"
Dove finally opened her eyes, fixing her brother with a steady, unimpressed stare. "I told you it was just some random bedtime story about a cat going to China," she said flatly.
Robin, who had been leaning against the table, suddenly perked up. "Wait, hold on—you speak Russian?"
"No," Dustin cut in before Dove could respond, holding up his hand dramatically. "She doesn't. She just recognized, like, three words and wrote it off."
Dove shot him a glare, her lips tightening. "I didn't write it off. I said it didn't sound like anything suspicious."
Robin snorted. "But a Russian bedtime story does sound suspicious."
Dove sent Robin a sharp glare and held up her hand, a silent signal for her to stop talking. Robin's jaw dropped slightly, and she looked over at Steve, her expression one of incredulous disbelief. Her wide eyes silently asked, Did she seriously just do that? Steve just shrugged, shaking his head slightly—he knew better than to interupt Dove while she was on a war path.
Dove didn't notice the silent exchange, her focus locked on Dustin, keeping her tone steely. "Why do you insist on looking for trouble, Dustin? Why can't you just let things go for once without putting yourself in danger?"
Dustin frowned, the smugness fading from his face. "I'm not looking for trouble," he said defensively. "I'm looking for answers. And if you'd stop treating me like a little kid, you'd see I'm actually good at finding them."
Dove's expression softened just slightly, but her worry was still evident. "And what happens when the answers you're looking for get you hurt, huh? When your curiosity literally kills our cat?" Her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if her body was trying to subconsciously stop the words before they tumbled out.
Dustin flinched, the mention of Mews hitting harder than she'd intended. He looked down at the book on the table, his hands fidgeting with the corner of the page. "That's not fair," he mumbled. "You know that wasn't my fault."
Robin glanced between the two of them, her brow furrowing. She looked at Steve who adamantly shook his head, silently begging Robin not to ask.
Dove stiffened as she realized what she said, a pang of regret tightening her chest. She sighed heavily, lowering herself into the chair across from Dustin at the small table. Her frustration melted away, replaced by guilt that burned hotter than any anger. Rubbing a hand over her face, she avoided Robin's curious gaze and focused on Dustin instead. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice heavy. "I shouldn't have said that."
Dustin glanced up, meeting her eyes, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The weight of everything they'd been through—the secrets, the losses, the things they couldn't share with anyone else—hung in the air.
Dove exhaled sharply, her hand darting out to grab the translation book. She flipped it open, her eyes scanning the pages with an intensity that made the room feel smaller, quieter. Her mind churned, replaying every moment of Danny's strange behavior—the urgency in his voice, the tight grip on the file, and the uncharacteristic frustration when he couldn't find this book. It all felt wrong, like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit.
Her grip tightened on the book as a pit of unease settled in her stomach. Her gaze flicked back up to Dustin, who was watching her intently. His lips twitched, and before she could say anything, a small, knowing smile began to creep across his face.
"What?" Dove asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Dustin shrugged, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Nothing," he said, his grin widening. "I just love watching this happen."
"Watching what happen?" Dove shot back, though her tone held more exasperation than bite.
"You're gonna crack," Dustin said confidently, pointing at her. "I can see it. The gears are turning, and you're wondering what that message really says."
"I am not—" Dove started, but her voice faltered, betraying her. She sighed, slumping back into her chair as she let the book fall closed on the table. "Damn it."
Dustin grinned and pumped his fist in triumph. "Yes! I knew you'd see reason."
Dove held up a finger, her expression stern. "Not so fast. I have conditions." Dustin paused mid-celebration, lowering his fist and nodding solemnly. Dove leaned forward, fixing him with a serious look. "First, this is data collection only. We are not, under any circumstances, doing anything stupid or dangerous."
She glanced subtly toward Steve as she said 'stupid', earning an offended gasp. Then, her eyes shifted to Dustin, her gaze sharpening. "And," Dove continued, her tone growing even more serious, "the moment this gets intense—if we even think we're in over our heads—we go to Hopper. No arguments."
Dustin nodded, though his enthusiasm dimmed slightly at the mention of Hopper. "Alright, deal." He gave her a solemn salute, though his grin was quick to return. "You won't regret this. I promise."
Dove shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "I already do."
Robin, meanwhile, grabbed her notebook and smirked. "So, now that we're all on board, can we finally get to decoding this bedtime story? I'm dying to know what happens to the cat."
They all gathered around the table, the tension palpable as Dustin fiddled with the tape player. The bell at the front counter began ringing incessantly, the sharp ding-ding-ding cutting through the room like nails on a chalkboard. They leaned in closer, straining to hear the Russian message over the racket.
Finally, Robin groaned, leaning back in her chair. "Steve, don't you have, like, ice cream to scoop or something?"
Steve scoffed, crossing his arms. "No way, it's your turn to go out there."
Dustin shot him a pointed look. "We need Robin back here, Steve. This is serious."
Steve turned his eyes to Dove, clearly expecting her to back him up, but she just shrugged, giving him a small, amused smile.
Steve groaned, throwing his head back dramatically before dragging himself toward the door. "Really feeling like part of the team here," he muttered, mutinously. "I swear to God, if this thing translates to 'the cat goes to China and buys a hat,' I'm gonna be pissed."
Robin smirked as Steve shuffled out the door. "Ooh, scary. We better hurry up, or Steve's gonna get himself beat up again."
Dustin snorted, and even Dove allowed a small smile to tug at her lips, though the humor didn't ease the growing knot in her chest. She turned her attention back to the tape as Dustin hit play, the strange, rhythmic voice filling the room once again.
The hours slipped by in a blur of hushed conversations, scribbled notes, and the faint static of the tape replaying over and over. Robin had taken over the whiteboard, her scrawled translations slowly filling the space. Dustin was poring over the Russian-to-English dictionary, his face scrunched up in concentration as he pieced together fragments of the message. Dove hovered between them, her eyes darting between the board and the notepad in her hands, her unease growing with every word they translated.
The bell at the front counter stopped ringing after a while, signaling that the mall was emptying out, but none of them noticed. Even Steve, who'd returned from his ice cream duties, was unusually focused as he joined them at the table, occasionally offering his own brand of commentary that mostly earned him glares from Robin.
By the time they finished, the mall was silent, the only light coming from the dim fluorescents of Scoops Ahoy. Robin scribbled down the completed translation on a piece of notebook paper, her handwriting quick and jagged. She tore the page free with a dramatic flourish and handed it to Dove.
Dove took the paper, her hands tightening slightly as she scanned the words. Her heart sank as she read aloud:
"The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west. A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly."
The room felt heavier with each word, the message hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Dove glanced around at the others, her unease mirrored in their faces.
Dustin broke the silence, his voice quiet but firm. "This isn't just a random bedtime story. It can't be."
Steve stood, grabbing his Scoops Ahoy hat from the counter and slapping it on his head. "Or," he said, his voice tinged with skepticism, "it's nonsense. A bunch of words thrown together to make paranoid kids like you go chasing shadows."
Dustin, of course, wasn't convinced. As the four of them walked out of Scoops he launched into an exasperated explanation of how it wasn't nonsense at all, gesturing wildly as Robin chimed in, piecing together theories of her own.
Dove glanced over to Steve, who pulled the security grille closed with a soft click. She crossed her arms over her chest, her unease deepening as their voices echoed off the tiled floors, bickering over what they had uncovered.
"Honestly, I think it's great news," Dustin said as they passed a row of empty tables.
Steve, clearly unconvinced, shot him a disbelieving look. "How is this great news? So much for being American heroes," he muttered, keeping pace next to Dove. "It's total nonsense."
"It's not nonsense," Dustin insisted, not ready to let it go. "It's too specific to be random. It's obviously a code."
"A code?" Steve echoed. "What do you mean, a code?"
Dustin grinned, a gleam in his eye. "Like a super secret spy code."
Steve raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit of a stretch, don't you think?"
Robin turned her head slightly, considering Dustin's theory. "I don't know, is it?" she said, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone as they passed under the flickering neon lights of the mall's closed arcade.
Steve groaned in disbelief. "You're buying into this?"
Robin shrugged, her expression playful but her tone laced with intrigue. "Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What'd you think they were gonna say? 'Fire the warhead at noon?'"
"Exactly," Dustin said, jumping in with confidence, his pace quickening.
"And our translation is correct," Robin continued, her eyes bright with the thrill of discovery. "I know that for sure. 'The silver cat feeds'—why would anyone talk like that unless they were trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"
"Exactly," Dustin echoed, his excitement bubbling over. "Evil Russians."
Robin smirked, glancing back at Steve and Dove. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but yeah, totally evil Russians."
Dove shook her head slowly, her arms still crossed tightly as she studied the floor. The phrases, the eerie specificity—it was hard to ignore. And then there was Danny. His sudden interest in the translation book, his rushed explanation, and the gun tucked into his bag—all of it lingered in the back of her mind, tugging at her like an undertow, threatening to pull her under.
Robin and Dustin continued ahead, their voices a rapid-fire exchange of excited theories and conclusions. Steve started to follow them but paused when he noticed Dove hadn't moved. She was rooted to the spot, her face tense, her eyes locked on the floor as if trying to solve a puzzle only she could see.
Steve hesitated for a moment before stepping back to her, his voice softer than usual. "Dove?" he said, tentatively placing a hand on her arm. "You okay?"
Her head snapped up at his touch, her expression momentarily startled. She blinked at him, seeming to remember where she was. "I'm fine," she muttered, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts.
She took a step forward, but Steve's hand moved to her other arm, gently holding her in place. "Hey," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers. "You don't have to pretend with me."
Dove let out a dry laugh, though it lacked any real humor. "Don't use my words against me," she muttered, her voice tinged with both annoyance and resignation.
Steve's lips curved into a faint smile, but his expression remained serious. "Then don't make me," he replied, his tone quiet but firm. "What's going on, Dove?"
She hesitated, glancing toward the others, who were now out of earshot, their excited chatter echoing faintly through the mall. Dove turned back to Steve, her eyes meeting his. But as she did, her mind betrayed her. The image from her dream flashed vividly—Steve and Dustin, lifeless, entangled in vines, their bodies swaying from that haunting tree. Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, trying to push the memory away.
Steve noticed immediately, his brows furrowing as worry deepened the lines on his face. "Dove?" he pressed, his voice even softer now, laced with concern. "You're starting to freak me out."
Before she could respond, Dustin's voice rang out from ahead, his tone impatient. "Hey! Are you guys coming or what?"
"No," Steve said instinctively, his focus still on Dove.
"Yes," Dove blurted at the same time, her voice louder than she intended. The sharpness of her reply made Dustin and Robin pause, glancing back toward them.
Steve gave her a look, one that was equal parts confused and skeptical. "Dove—"
"I'm fine, Steve," she said quickly, her voice clipped as she straightened up, forcing her breathing to even out. "Let's just go." Without waiting for a response, she brushed past him, heading toward Dustin and Robin.
Dustin's confused expression greeted her as she approached. He tilted his head, studying her as if trying to piece something together. "What's going on with you and Steve?" he asked, his voice cautious but curious.
Before Dove could respond, Robin's voice cut in from a few feet away. "What's going on with him?" she asked, her tone tinged with amusement. Dove followed her gaze and frowned.
Steve was kneeling beside a mechanical horse kiddie ride, his fingers running along the coin slot like he was deep in thought. "Are you tall enough for that ride?" Robin called, crossing her arms as they walked closer to him.
Steve ignored her, his attention fixed on the machine as he patted his pockets. "Does anyone have a quarter?" he asked, his tone dead serious.
Without hesitation, Dustin began patting his own pockets, his face scrunched in concentration as he searched. "Hang on, I think I've got one."
Dove tilted her head, her brow furrowing as she studied Steve. His intense focus was almost unsettling. With a small sigh, she reached into her purse, pulled out a quarter, and flicked it toward him. "Here. Knock yourself out."
Steve caught it with a grin and turned back to the machine, slipping the coin into the slot. The ride whirred to life with a mechanical hum, the horse jerking forward in slow, uneven bobs, a tinny melody crackling through the speakers.
Robin smirked, crossing her arms. "Need help getting up, little Stevie?"
Steve shot her a glare, holding up a finger to shush her. "Just listen."
The song filled the quiet mall, echoing through the empty food court, and Steve looked up at the others, his expression tense and expectant.
"Oh my God," Dove murmured, realization dawning on her. The tinny music playing from the machine was unmistakable. "It's the music from the tape."
"Holy shit," Dustin breathed, his excitement reaching a peak as he quickly shrugged off his backpack and pulled out the tape recorder. He pressed play, confirming their theory as the familiar tune echoed through the empty mall.
Robin frowned, her arms crossed. "I don't understand," she said, tilting her head at the ride. "Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?"
Steve stood back, his jaw tight, and pointed at the logo painted on the side of the ride. "Indiana Flyer?" he read aloud, his voice steady but weighted. "I don't think so. This code didn't come from Russia. It came from here."
The four of them stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the mechanical horse as it's movements slowed, the melody ending along with the jerky trot. Dove's chest tightened as unease clawed at her, her gaze darting to the darkened storefronts and empty hallways. The mall, once a hub of light and noise, now felt suffocating, like the walls themselves were closing in, hiding secrets she didn't want to uncover.
Her fingers twitched at her sides as they turned to leave, the weight of what they'd discovered pressing down on her like a physical force. Every sound felt amplified—the distant hum of the escalators, the faint buzz of a flickering neon sign. Each step toward the exit felt heavier than the last, her breath shallow and uneven as her mind raced with questions she couldn't answer.
By the time they pushed through the doors and into the cool night air, Dove's unease had morphed into full-blown dread. The parking lot stretched out before them, its emptiness offering no comfort. The distant hum of the town only made the quiet between them more deafening. Dove wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers gripping the fabric of her jacket, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"This is.. wild," Robin said, shaking her head as she glanced back at the darkened building. The towering mall, which had always felt like a hub of mundanity, now loomed like a shadowed puzzle.
"We meet again tomorrow, and we figure out what the hell this means," Dustin declared, his eyes bright with excitement.
Steve chuckled softly, hands shoved into his pockets. "Yeah, man. Tomorrow."
Robin walked over to her bike, the faint squeak of the wheels breaking the stillness of the parking lot. "See you tomorrow, weirdos," she called over her shoulder, giving them a two-fingered salute before pedaling off.
"Later," Steve called after her, waving as she disappeared into the night.
Dove trailed behind as they walked further into the parking lot, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her gaze fixed unwaveringly ahead. She barely registered Dustin's excited chatter as he ran ahead toward her car, rambling about plans for tomorrow.
Steve slowed his pace, falling into step beside Dove. He studied her carefully, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way she seemed to be carrying an invisible weight. He glanced toward Dustin, making sure he was out of earshot, before speaking in a low voice. "Do you still want to tell him tonight?"
Dove's brow furrowed in confusion, her steps faltering slightly. "Tell him what?" she asked before the realization hit her. Her stomach twisted as the memory surfaced—she'd completely forgotten they'd planned to tell Dustin about their breakup. After everything that had happened that day, it had completely slipped her mind.
"Oh," she muttered, her voice barely audible. "Right." She looked ahead at Dustin. The thought of dampening his mood with the news made her heart sink.
Steve gave her a sideways glance. "We don't have to do it tonight," he offered softly. "It can wait."
Dove sighed, her fingers tightening around her arms. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice tinged with guilt. "I hate lying to him. He deserves to know."
Steve nodded, his expression understanding. "Yeah, he does. But maybe not tonight," he said, his voice gentle. "He's happy. Let him have that, at least for now. There's always tomorrow."
Dove hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yeah," she agreed quietly. "Tomorrow."
As they approached the cars, Dustin turned around, his backpack swinging slightly as he walked backward. "Hey, Steve, you should come over for breakfast tomorrow," he said, his tone light and casual. "Mom's making French toast. You know, the good kind with all the powdered sugar and stuff."
Steve hesitated, glancing at Dove. "I don't know, man," he started, rubbing the back of his neck. His tone was uncertain, and his gaze flickered to her, as if seeking permission.
Dove looked at him, her expression softening as her eyes shifted to Dustin, who was practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. She let out a quiet breath and put on a small smile, looking back at Steve. "You should come," she said gently, her voice steady but encouraging.
Steve's mouth opened slightly, like he was about to say something, but then he closed it, the words catching in his throat. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on Dove before he turned to Dustin, his own smile breaking through. "Alright," he said with a nod. "I'm in."
"Sweet!" Dustin grinned, turning back toward Dove's car. As he walked ahead, he mumbled to himself, "Man, I should've thought to invite Robin. I bet she likes French toast."
Steve watched him go, his smile softening into something more genuine. He turned to Dove, his gaze steady as he studied her for a moment. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. "Hey," he said softly. "Everything's gonna be okay. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out."
Dove met his eyes, but instead of answering, she shook her head slightly, as if dismissing the thought. "Goodnight, Steve," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked toward her car, her pace brisk. Steve stood there for a moment, watching her go, his chest tightening at the weight of her silence. She got into her car, started it, and drove off without looking back, leaving Steve alone in the parking lot.