"Thanks," I murmur again, reaching for the canteen and taking as big a gulp as I dare. Water dribbles down the sides of my chin and I smear it away with the back of my hand, passing the canteen back with a cough and leaning into the warmth of Mike's hand. The urge to curl my fingers around his wrist and tug him closer is almost impossible to resist.

But I do it, anyway. It doesn't feel like the time or place.