When Dove walked outside, Danny was leaning against the back of his car, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air. A file sat on the trunk beside him, slightly weathered and brimming with papers. He glanced up as she approached, nodding in acknowledgment but saying nothing.
She settled in next to him, leaning against the car as the cool evening air brushed past them. Without a word, Danny slid the file across the trunk toward her. Dove glanced down at it, then back up at him, her brow furrowed. "What's this?" she asked, picking it up.
Danny took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly before answering. "It's all the stuff I found that I can't make sense of."
Dove flipped the file open, her eyes scanning the first page as curiosity took over. After a moment, she looked up at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I thought you told me to drop it because it's too dangerous."
Danny smirked, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "I did," he said evenly, flicking ash from his cigarette. "But I figured, since you already know, I might as well get a second pair of eyes."
Dove looked back down at the file, her curiosity piqued. Flipping through the papers, she realized most of them were in Russian, the unfamiliar characters jumbling together into an indecipherable code. Her brow furrowed as she sifted through the contents, but then she came across a small bundle of pictures tucked into the back of the file.
Her smile faded instantly.
The grainy black-and-white images looked like they had been copied and recopied many times over, the content blurry and barely discernible. But even in their degraded state, something about the photos sent a chill running up her spine, settling uncomfortably at the base of her neck.
Danny noticed her reaction and glanced over. "You see something?" he asked, his tone more serious now.
Dove didn't answer immediately. She held the photocopies closer, her eyes scanning every detail. The shapes and figures in the photos weren't clear, but there was a strange, haunting quality to them—a familiarity that felt impossible to ignore. "Where did you get these?" she finally asked, her voice quieter than before.
Danny took a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he avoided her gaze. For a moment, she thought he might not answer, but then he finally spoke, his voice low. "Abernathy's office."
Dove's grip on the papers tightened, her pulse quickening. "Do you have any idea what Abernathy would do if he found out you were snooping around his office?"
"I'm not an idiot, Dove," Danny said sharply, finally meeting her eyes. "I was careful. He didn't see me, and no one else knows."
Dove stared at him, torn between anger and begrudging respect. "This could get us both killed," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Yep," Danny replied simply, taking another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the air.
Dove set the file down on the trunk and turned to face him fully. "Can I have one?" she asked.
Danny blinked, clearly surprised. "Didn't know you smoked."
"I don't," Dove replied flatly.
Danny held her gaze for a moment, as if weighing her words, then shrugged. "Me either," he said, taking one last drag before pulling the pack from his pocket. The pack was clearly old—its once-bright cardboard was now faded and worn at the edges, soft from years of being handled. Despite its battered appearance, the pack was almost full, with only a few cigarettes missing.
He extended it toward her along with his lighter, the metal gleaming dully under the dim light. Dove hesitated briefly before pulling one out, its paper slightly yellowed with age. She flicked the lighter a few times before the flame caught, her hands trembling just enough for Danny to notice. She took a drag, the smoke hitting her lungs harshly and immediately sending her into a coughing fit.
"Jesus," she rasped, waving her hand as if to fan away the harshness of the smoke. "That's awful."
Danny smirked faintly, clearly holding back a laugh. "Yeah, they're stale as hell," he admitted, leaning back against the car and taking a drag of his own. "They belonged to a friend of mine."
Dove glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, curious but recognizing the edge in his tone that warned her not to push. She nodded slightly, letting the moment hang in silence. Instead, her attention drifted back to the file on the car.
The images lingered in her mind, an unsettling familiarity gnawing at her. She took another drag of the cigarette, and this time the smoke felt smoother, though no less unpleasant. Her lips twisted into a grimace as she exhaled. "Still tastes terrible."
Danny huffed a quiet laugh, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Yeah, it does."
Dove held the cigarette between her teeth, freeing her hands as she flipped the file back open. The bundle of photocopied pictures seemed to stare back at her, their blurred edges and distorted shadows refusing to give up their secrets. She carefully lifted the photos, holding them at different angles and letting the sunlight catch on the paper. The subtle changes in light made the shadows shift and stretch, teasing out faint details she hadn't noticed before.
Danny leaned back against the car, watching her intently, though he said nothing. His sharp gaze tracked her movements, his expression unreadable.
The ash from Dove's cigarette fell on its own, a soft sprinkle settling onto the photo she was holding. She blinked, startled, and quickly pulled the cigarette from her mouth, blowing the ash off the picture with a sharp breath. As the particles floated through the air, catching the sunlight like dust motes, her heart dropped.
Her gaze snapped back to the photo, and something about it seemed to shift. The blurred shapes and shadows began to resolve, faint outlines coalescing into a scene she recognized all too well. A field. The ground tangled with sprawling vines that snaked across the terrain like veins. And in the center stood a single, skeletal tree, its twisted branches reaching skyward like claws.
Just like her dream.
Just like the small fragment of the Upside Down she had been exposed to in the tunnels last year.
Her breath hitched, and the cigarette slipped from her fingers, forgotten as it hit the pavement with a faint hiss of ember.
Danny noticed the shift immediately, his sharp eyes catching the way her hands trembled slightly and her breath grew uneven. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low but filled with concern.
Dove shook her head quickly, trying to ground herself. "I don't know," she muttered, though the words felt hollow.
She thought of the Upside Down, the dark, suffocating air, the twisting vines, the nightmare she'd barely escaped last year. Her mind raced, but one thought screamed louder than the rest: this couldn't be right. Surely the Russians didn't have access to a gate. Surely that wasn't possible.
The blood drained from her face as a wave of nausea rolled over her. Her temples throbbed, a headache beginning to bloom and pulse with the weight of her thoughts. She forced her shaking hands to gather the photos, stacking them neatly before slipping them back into the file. With a measured motion, she closed it and slid it across the trunk toward Danny.
"Sorry," she said, her voice tight, barely above a whisper. "I have no idea what those pictures are."
Danny's brow furrowed, his sharp gaze studying her pale face and the way her fingers gripped the edge of the car for stability. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his shoe with a deliberate twist. Then, without hesitation, he stepped closer, placing his hands gently on her shoulders.
"Dove," he said softly, his voice steady but full of concern. "Are you okay?"
Dove nodded quickly, the movement making her slightly dizzy, though she steadied herself almost immediately. "I'm fine," she said, her tone firm but a little too quick. "I just.. I need to get back inside. My brother's waiting for me, and I need to get him home."
Danny watched her carefully, his eyes searching her face. He could tell she wasn't telling him the full truth, but he didn't push. Instead, he gave her a small nod and stepped back, his hands falling away from her shoulders. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper.
Dove furrowed her brow as he scribbled something quickly, then ripped the page free and held it out to her. Taking her hand, he pressed the paper into her palm and gently closed her fingers around it. His hand lingered for a moment, holding her fist as his gaze met hers.
"If you need something," Danny said, his voice low but firm, "anything—call me."
Dove glanced down at her closed hand, then back up at him, her throat tightening slightly. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice quieter now.
Danny gave her a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Be careful, Dove. I'll see you at work tomorrow."
She nodded again, slipping the note into her pocket as she stepped away from the car. The warmth of his hand lingered on hers as she walked back toward the building, her mind still spinning with the weight of what she'd seen and the questions it left behind.
Dove pushed open the door to Scoops Ahoy, the familiar jingle of the bell signaling her entrance. She was immediately greeted by the sharp, incessant sound of another bell ringing at the counter. Erica Sinclair stood on tiptoe, smacking the service bell repeatedly with a glare that could melt steel.
"Hellooo? All hands on deck," Erica muttered, continuing to ring the bell.
Dove barely spared her a glance, her attention already drawn to the muffled sounds of bickering coming from the back room, her jaw tightening. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Her irritation flared instantly, the tension of the last few hours bubbling over.
With a sharp sigh, she turned to Erica, who was still pounding the bell. "Enough with the bell, Sinclair!" Dove snapped.
Erica rolled her eyes, letting her hand hover dramatically over the button before ringing it again. Dove shot Erica a glare, the kind that usually made Dustin rethink his life choices, but Erica remained unfazed, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to do something about it.
Dove turned away, muttering under her breath, "This day just keeps getting better." As she approached the back room, the muffled voices grew louder, punctuated by the occasional thud and the sound of metal scraping against metal. She yanked the door open, ready to deliver yet another lecture.
But the words died in her throat.
She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open at the sight before her. Steve was perched precariously on a ladder, his arms wrapped around Dustin's flailing legs as he attempted to shove him into an air vent, all while Robin watched from the corner with a mixture of amusement and concern.
"What the hell is going on?" Dove blurted out, her voice louder than she intended.
The sudden sound startled Steve, who jerked his head to look at her, his grip on Dustin's legs loosening. His sudden movement caused the ladder beneath him to wobble dangerously. His eyes widened in panic, and before he could steady himself, the ladder slipped out from under him with a loud screech. Steve shouted, his arms flailing as he lost his balance. The ladder crashed to the floor with a metallic clang, and Steve followed suit, landing hard on his back with a thud. He groaned in pain, his limbs splayed awkwardly on the ground.
Dustin, now left hanging half-in, half-out of the vent, flailed wildly. "Steve! Steve, help me!" he yelled, trying to pull himself out, but with no leverage, he remained stuck, dangling helplessly.
Robin burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over as she leaned against the wall.
Dove stood there, wide-eyed, watching Steve groan on the floor, one hand clutching his elbow as he winced in pain. "Someone better start explaining." she said, her tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.
Steve, still lying flat on the ground, looked up at her, his face scrunched up in embarrassment. "We're uh.. cleaning?" he muttered weakly, rubbing the back of his head where he had hit the floor.
Dove raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stared down at him. "Cleaning? Really? So you're not investigating the Russians?"
Steve scrambled to sit up, wincing as he rubbed his head. "Russians? No way. Definitely not Russians. Why would you even think—"
"We're, uh, doing maintenance!" Dustin piped up from the vent, his voice muffled but frantic. "Totally normal, mall-sanctioned maintenance."
Robin added, "Yeah, you know, like, improving air circulation and stuff. Very important work."
Dove raised a hand, cutting through the jumble of half-baked excuses. "Stop. Just.. stop." She fixed them with a pointed look. "What exactly was your plan here? And I swear, if you say 'cleaning' one more time, I'm gonna lose it."
Robin and Steve exchanged a panicked glance before Robin sighed heavily, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a crumpled map of the mall, smoothing it out on the table. A bright red line was drawn between Scoops Ahoy and a section marked with a messy X. Dove's eyes narrowed as she studied it, her skepticism written all over her face. Behind her, Steve groaned as he picked himself up off the floor, dragging the ladder upright with a loud scrape.
Robin smirked but didn't look up, tapping the map. "See this red line? It connects Scoops Ahoy to that storage room we saw last night. We think there's some kind of back entrance through the air ducts."
Dove crossed her arms, tilting her head skeptically. "There's no way any of us are fitting through the vents. We'll have to think of something else."
Robin froze mid-tap, her gaze darting to Dove in surprise.
Steve, standing by the ladder, paused mid-step and turned toward her. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, we? Does that mean you're back in?"
Dove turned to look at him, her expression unreadable for a beat before she finally nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I am."
Dustin, now free of the vent and brushing dust off his shirt, straightened up. "What changed?"
Dove hesitated, her eyes briefly meeting Robin's. She could feel Robin watching her intently, the question lingering in the air. For a moment, Dove debated how much to say, but she shook her head. "Let's just say I realized this is bigger than I thought."
Robin scoffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the table. "Right. Of course. Because why actually trust us when you can keep acting like you're the only one with a clue?"
Dove turned to fully face Robin, her posture stiffening. "Maybe I'll trust you when you give me a reason to—something other than snotty comments and sarcasm."
Robin opened her mouth, ready to fire back, but then paused, her expression shifting. A spark of an idea lit up her face, her usual smirk replaced by a determined grin. "Okay, fine. What if I solve our little air duct problem?"
Dove blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. "What?"
Without answering, Robin straightened up and strode toward the front of the store. "Just watch," she said over her shoulder, confidence radiating off her as she disappeared through the swinging doors.
Curiosity piqued, Dove stepped closer to the doorway and peered out. Her eyes landed on Robin at the front counter, already deep in conversation with Erica Sinclair. Erica stood on tiptoe, arms crossed over her chest, her expression unimpressed as Robin gestured animatedly toward the ice cream cases.
Robin leaned in, her tone dropping to what must've been a conspiratorial whisper, though her gestures remained exaggerated. Erica didn't budge, her face a mask of pure indifference, as if weighing every word. Then, after a pause, Robin pointed at the towering stack of ice cream tubs behind the counter.
Erica's gaze followed Robin's finger, her expression unreadable. A moment later, she glanced back at Robin, her lips pursing as if calculating. Slowly, she gave a single, deliberate nod, her sharp eyes narrowing in thought.
"Well," Dustin whispered, "that's either really good or really bad."
Robin walked in with a satisfied grin on her face, followed by Erica.
"Okay, what did you do?" Dove asked, already suspicious.
Robin shrugged nonchalantly. "We need someone smaller to get into that vent, and well, Erica here should do the trick."
Erica tilted her chin up proudly, a smirk dancing across her face. "I'll take a look, but don't get your hopes up. You nerds better know what you're doing." Without another word, Erica grabbed Dustin's flashlight right out of his hands and climbed up the ladder Steve had hastily set back into place. The faint squeak of the steps echoed in the quiet room as everyone watched her intently.
Dove leaned closer to Robin, lowering her voice to a sharp whisper. "What did you tell her? And for the record, I'm not comfortable getting another kid involved in this."
Robin waved a dismissive hand, her eyes fixed on Erica. "Relax, Mother Hen. I just made her a deal. It's all under control."
"That's not the point," Dove hissed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. "If anything happens—"
"Nothing's gonna happen," Robin interrupted, her tone light but firm. "Erica's tough. Plus, look at her—she's owning this."
They both glanced back at the ladder, where Erica was shining her flashlight into the vent, muttering something about how dusty it was. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the tight space, her small frame just the right size for the task. "Yeah, I don't know," she said, her voice laced with a hint of teasing as she climbed back down the ladder with an exaggerated sigh.
"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.
Erica rolled her eyes, hands resting confidently on her hips. "Oh, I can fit," she declared, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "I just don't know if I want to."
Robin raised an eyebrow. "Are you claustrophobic or something?"
Erica let out a short snicker, shaking her head. "Please, I don't have phobias."
Steve, arms crossed over his chest, shifted impatiently. "Okay, so what's the problem then?"
Erica looked him dead in the eye, a mischievous smile forming on her lips. "The problem is, I haven't heard what's in this for Erica."
Robin grabbed the map of Starcourt Mall from the table with a dramatic flourish. "Okay, Steve," she said, pointing a finger in his direction, "you're gonna scoop Erica all the ice cream she wants. Right now."
Steve blinked, taken aback. "All the ice cream?"
"All of it," Robin confirmed, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Erica smirked, clearly enjoying the power she held in this situation. They moved into the front parlor to sit in the booth nearest to the door.
Meanwhile, Steve was working overtime to satisfy Erica's endless demands. First, he delivered a towering cone, rainbow sprinkles and all. Erica took it, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. Next came a dish piled high with mint chip and whipped cream, which she accepted with barely a nod. Then, a double scoop of cookies and cream. And yet, the little queen of negotiation remained unimpressed.
Eventually, he had brought out a small mountain of desserts: four towering cones, five dishes of varying flavors, two milkshakes that threatened to spill over their rims, and finally, the pièce de résistance—a massive banana split, dripping with whipped cream and cherries. Steve plopped it down in front of Erica with a weary expression.
Erica studied it, her eyes glittering with amusement. "More fudge, please" she said casually, sliding the desert back toward Steve. He stared at her for a solid second, his patience visibly fraying. Erica simply waved him off with a flick of her hand. "Go on," she said, her tone dismissive.
With an exaggerated sigh, Steve turned on his heel and headed back behind the counter to retrieve more fudge, muttering under his breath. Robin shot him a teasing grin, while Dove exchanged an amused look with Dustin as they watched the whole scene play out.
Erica took a long, deliberate sip of one of the milkshakes, her eyes narrowing mischievously. Dove watched the girl, impressed despite herself by the audacity and sheer confidence that seemed to radiate off of her in waves. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Erica leaned back in the booth, a sly grin spreading across her face.
"Okay," she said, sounding entirely too pleased with herself. "So what's the plan?"
Robin shot a victorious glance at both Dustin and Dove. There was an energy crackling in the air now, like they were finally getting somewhere.
"Alright. You see this?" Robin pointed to the red line she had drawn on the map of Starcourt Mall, her finger tracing the route with precision. "This is the route you're gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight. Once it's clear, you knock out the grate, jump down, and open the door."
Dove found herself nodding along, even though a small part of her stomach twisted at the idea of a literal child doing the dangerous part of the mission. But they needed someone small, and there was no denying that Erica was their best shot at pulling this off.
Erica, however, didn't seem fazed at all. She simply took another bite of her sundae, savoring the ice cream for a moment before speaking. "Then you find out what's in those boxes?"
"Exactly," Robin said, her tone filled with excitement, like this was the final piece of a puzzle they were close to solving.
"Now, this is strictly information gathering. We go in, take some photos, and get out. They'll never even know we were there." Dove said, trying to convince herself as much as Erica.
"Mmhmm," Erica responded, licking the spoon slowly. "And you say this guard is armed?"
"Yes, but he won't be there," Dustin interjected quickly, his voice carrying a confidence Dove wished she shared.
Erica didn't miss a beat. "And booby traps?" she asked casually. "Lasers, spikes in the wall?"
At that, Dove let out a laugh, as did Robin and Dustin. The absurdity of it lightened the tension, if only for a moment. But Erica? She didn't even flinch. Her arms crossed firmly on the table, her expression as serious as ever.
"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me?" Erica said, her voice flat, but with a sharp edge. "Child endangerment."
Robin leaned forward, still trying to stay on top of things. "We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time—"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Erica cut her off, waving a finger dramatically in Robin's face. "Child endangerment." She repeated, putting extra emphasis on each word like a lawyer driving home a point in court.
Dove exchanged a look with Robin, eyebrows raised, before glancing over at Dustin, who was starting to squirm. Erica had them by the throat and she knew it.
Dustin leaned forward, trying to salvage things. "Erica, we think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don't you love your country?"
Erica didn't miss a beat. "You can't spell 'America' without 'Erica'." She stated it with such casual authority that it almost made Dove laugh out loud. This girl was something else.
Dustin blinked, clearly thrown off by her response. "Uh, yeah.." he stammered. "Oddly that's totally true." He paused, his eyes flicking nervously between Erica and the rest of the group. The tension stretched as the sound of Erica loudly slurping her root beer float filled the silence. Dove fought the urge to smile at how exasperated her brother was getting.
Dustin tried again, leaning forward with newfound conviction. "So, don't do this for us. Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America.. Erica."
Erica finally set down the empty cup, her lips twitching into a teasing smirk. "Ooh," she said, exaggerating a shiver for effect. "I just got the chills. From the float, not you." She added that last part with a smirk aimed at Dustin, whose hopeful grin instantly dropped. Dove barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
"Know what I love most about this country?" Erica asked, glancing around the table like a seasoned negotiator. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?" she asked, her gaze shifting from Robin to Dustin and then landing on Dove.
Dove nodded along with the others, half-expecting whatever was coming next. But still, she braced herself, feeling the twist of tension as she watched Erica work the room.
"It means this is a free market system. Which means people get paid for their services, depending on how valuable their contributions are." Erica's eyes gleamed as she continued, her voice now smooth, like she had all the time in the world. "And it seems to me, my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all."
Dove found herself biting back a smile. This girl had guts—more than most adults she knew, and definitely more than Dove had at that age.
"So," Erica continued, "you want my help? This USS Butterscotch," she pointed to the half-eaten sundae in front of her, "better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life." With that, Erica plucked the cherry off the sundae with an almost theatrical flair, biting into it with a satisfied smile as if to seal the deal.
Steve plopped the banana split back onto the table, the dish landing with a dull thud. He stood there for a second, arms crossed, staring at Erica like she might have something else to say—another demand, perhaps. Erica, however, just picked up her spoon, inspecting the dessert with a critical eye.
"This better have extra fudge," she muttered, digging into the layers of ice cream and bananas.
Dove watched the exchange with an amused shake of her head, her eyes flicking between Steve, who looked exasperated, and Erica, who was completely unfazed. The room was filled with the sound of Erica's spoon scraping against the bowl, the tension now cut by the absurdity of the situation.
Steve let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Anything else? Or is Her Highness satisfied?"
Erica barely glanced up, her mouth full of ice cream. "For now," she said, giving a small wave of her hand as if dismissing him.
Dove smirked at the interaction, her gaze drifting over to Steve, who had his hands on his hips, clearly trying to figure out how a 10-year-old had him wrapped around her finger.
The next few hours were a blur of chaotic preparation. Erica, in exchange for her contribution, insisted on an endless stream of free ice cream. Somehow, Steve ended up scooping every single cone, grumbling under his breath while Erica smugly enjoyed her treats. Robin alternated between teasing him and double-checking the blueprints, occasionally calling out suggestions as she fine-tuned the plan.
At some point, Dove and Dustin headed back to their house to grab supplies. Dustin darted to his room, emerging with another flashlight, his walkie-talkie, and a backpack stuffed with random gadgets he insisted might come in handy. Dove, meanwhile, dug through her closet, swapping her work clothes for a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She grabbed her old Polaroid camera off the shelf, tossing it into her bag alongside a fresh pack of film.
By the time they returned to Scoops Ahoy, the energy had shifted. Everyone was keyed up, nerves masked by the thin veil of confidence. The blueprints were spread out again, Robin briefing everyone on the details one last time. Steve handed Dove and Dustin each a cone—her usual order, she noted, as if he'd remembered it without even thinking—and muttered something about how Erica had somehow conned him into doing her laundry next week.
With supplies gathered, stomachs full of ice cream, and the final details nailed down, the group was almost ready. All that was left was to put their plan into action—and hope they didn't get caught in the process.
Erica spun around in her seat, pointing at Steve. "Alright, Sailor Boy, I want a milkshake. Chocolate, extra whipped cream, and don't skimp on the sprinkles."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, Robin stepped in. "I've got it," she said, grabbing a cup and heading toward the blender. She glanced at Steve, nodding subtly toward Dove, who was busy rifling through her bag for something. The gesture wasn't lost on him.
Steve hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and walked over to Dove. "Hey," he said, his voice softer than usual. "Can we, uh.. can we talk for a second?"
Dove furrowed her brow, glancing up at him in confusion. "Yeah, of course."
The two of them slipped out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving Robin, Dustin, and Erica behind. The mall was mostly empty at this hour, the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional echo of footsteps the only sounds. The atmosphere felt strange—calm, yet tense—as they walked in silence past shuttered storefronts, eventually settling on a bench in front of the fountain.
"So," Dove said after a moment, turning to face him. "What's this about?"
Steve ran a hand through his hair, his nerves visibly building. "Okay, first off, I know how this is going to sound," he began, his words spilling out in a rush. "And I swear I don't mean it in some weird, jealous, controlling way or whatever, but.. I have to ask because my brain won't shut up about it."
Dove's lips twitched into a small smile, and she tilted her head slightly. "Danny and I are just friends, Steve."
Steve faltered, blinking in surprise. "How'd you know that's what I was gonna ask?"
Dove chuckled softly, leaning back against the bench. "We were together almost six months, Steve. I know how you think."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn't come. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. "Maybe I've been.. overthinking it. I just—I always see you with him, and he's, you know, smart, and.. whatever."
Dove's smile softened, and she shook her head. "He's helping me with some stuff, and I trust him, but it's nothing like what you're thinking."
Steve glanced at her, his expression still hesitant. "Really? Because if he's ever, you know, crossing a line—"
"He's not," Dove interrupted, her voice steady. "And even if he were, frankly, it's not any of your business."
Steve blinked, clearly caught off guard by her bluntness. "I wasn't trying to—"
"I know you weren't," Dove cut in, her tone softening slightly. "And I appreciate that you care. But you don't get to police who I spend time with, Steve. We're not.. I mean, we're not together anymore."
Steve winced at her words, the reminder hitting harder than he expected. "Yeah, I know. I just.." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Forget it."
Dove looked at him for a moment, her expression softening as she hesitated. Finally, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. Steve tensed at the contact, his eyes darting up to meet hers, surprised.
"I'm sorry," Dove said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "For the way things worked out. With us."
Steve shook his head quickly, a self-deprecating laugh escaping him. "It wasn't your fault," he muttered. "It was mine. I was such a.. douchebag."
He paused, his gaze dropping again as his voice turned quieter, almost hesitant. "I still am."
Dove frowned, her hand lingering on his arm. "Steve—"
"It's true," he cut her off, his tone flat. "I mean, look at me. I'm sitting here freaking out about some guy you work with like it's any of my business. You said it yourself—it's not. And you're right."
Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the ground. "I've spent the whole summer trying to get up the courage to talk to you, and I couldn't even manage to do that without some kind of world-endangering threat hanging over our heads. How pathetic is that?"
Dove blinked, surprised by his candor. "Steve, it's not—"
"It is," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You're out there living your life, handling everything like you always do, and I'm just.. stuck. I can't stop thinking about how I screwed things up, and every time I try to fix it, I make it worse. And now here we are, crawling around in more shady crap because I can't even hold a normal conversation without some disaster to force me into it."
Dove frowned, her heart twisting a little at the self-loathing in his voice. "Steve, you're being too hard on yourself," she said gently. "But I'm glad that you're being honest with me. It means alot."
He looked at her, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to seeing from him. "Yeah, but it's too little, too late, right?"
Dove hesitated, her gaze steady as she weighed her words. "No," she said softly. "Pretending that everything was fine and keeping it bottled up, that didn't help either of us. So no, it's not too late to have this conversation. Not for me."
Steve's lips twitched into a small, tentative smile, though his eyes still held a hint of uncertainty. "You've always been good at this.. making me feel like maybe I'm not the guy everyone thinks I am."
"That's because you're not," Dove said simply, her voice steady and sincere. She opened her mouth to say more, but before she could, a loud voice cut through the air.
"Hey, lovebirds!" Erica's sharp, unmistakable tone echoed across the food court. "Are you two ready, or what?"