Heinz exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep his gaze fixed ahead, though his eyes betrayed him, drifting downward to the figure sitting in front of him.
Florian was silent now, his usual sharp tongue momentarily subdued by the vastness of the sky around them. His hands were loosely gripping the saddle, his posture finally less rigid than before. But Heinz was not at ease.
'He still doesn't remember.'
He had tested Florian in subtle ways—throwaway remarks, veiled provocations, even deliberately drawing too close at times. And yet, not once had there been a flicker of recollection in those green eyes. Florian had no idea. No memory of what had transpired between them.
But Heinz did.
He clenched his jaw, swallowing down the unwelcome heat that threatened to rise again. It was ridiculous—unthinkable, even—that he should be so affected by something that had meant nothing. Nothing.
And yet, it haunted him.
