She led him to a small technical deck near the ship's bow, accessible only to maintenance crew but currently deserted. The morning sun bathed the metal surfaces in warm light, and the sound of the ocean was louder here, more immediate.
"This is where I come to think," Amity said, settling onto a maintenance crate. "Away from the performances, the expectations, the careful choreography of being someone's daughter."
Jake joined her, the metal warm under his hands despite the morning breeze. "What will you tell your father?"
"The truth, probably. That I'm not coming back to Sydney. That I'm tired of pretending his world is the only one that matters." She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "He'll threaten to cut off my trust fund, of course."
"Would that change anything?"
