But then things got quiet.
Not in an awkward way—just still. The kind of still that only comes from realizing you're somewhere... safe.
“You know what’s weird?” Taylor said, softly. “This house hits different now. We saw it before, but this time… no one’s rushing us. It’s ours, just for a little bit.”
“It’s unreal,” Macie whispered.
Then her grin turned wicked. “Sara. You have to tell us how that bed feels.”
“And what it’s like waking up to that view.”
Sara rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You know I’ll tell you everything. Tomorrow.”
Her phone chimed.
“It’s Claire,” she said, reading. “They’re staying an extra night.”
Macie grinned. “Oh, we know what that means.”
“Can we not?” Sara cut in. “Let’s just enjoy this place while we’ve got it.”
“I’m heading to bed,” she said, standing and stretching, the towel riding high on her thighs. “We’ll clean in the morning.”
“Waiting for the clothes to finish?”
As if on cue, the dryer chimed.
Sara smirked. “Apparently not.”
She grabbed a warm bundle of clothes, still wrapped in her towel. “Perfect timing is remembering to buy deodorant and toothpaste on the way here.”
The girls laughed as she disappeared up the stairs.
Upstairs, the house feltdifferent.
Quieter.
Thicker.
She moved through his bedroom like she’d done it a hundred times—except her heart beat a little faster when she caught the faintest trace of his cologne still hanging in the air.
She brushed her teeth, turned off the lights, then stepped toward the windows.
The moon’s reflection skimmed across the water like silk. The sound called out beyond the glass—low, hushed, pulling.
She took a few steps back.
Sat on the edge of the bed.
Just… sat.
Her fingers brushed the comforter, soft and heavy. She looked back at the window.
Could you get used to this?
She didn’t answer the question.
Didn’t need to.
