Mia's eyelids fluttered open with the first hints of dawn in the sky. Her eyes felt dry and gritty, and she moved her hands to rub them.
Well, one hand. Her mouth fell open as she realized her other arm was stretched out above her head and her hand was being gently held by someone. Slowly, she tilted her head back.
Ford. Ford was fast asleep, his hand loosely holding hers.
How?
When?
She swallowed. Her bedroll appeared to be in the same place as when she went to sleep, but his had moved closer. Within arm's reach.
And… they held hands?
She bit her lower lip. Sleeping all curled together during the storm had been a matter of survival. Mia could separate that out in her mind, mostly, as being absolutely necessary and not meaning anything.
But holding hands?
