“It’s wonderful, actually. I want to thank you,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For standing up for me earlier. For standing up forus. Mom hasn’t made another snide remark, and I think my brothers might actually respect you now.” She shakes her head. “You males are weird.”
I lean in, voice low. “We’re partners, Chloe. I’d never let you fight them alone.”
The house hums with more noise than I’ve heard in years. Maybe once, when we had cousins visit, and the house was filled from stem to stern. It’s overwhelming, loud, andeverythingI’ve avoided for the last two years.
And somehow, standing here with Chloe, it feels survivable.
Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaks—sharp and sudden—like a warning.
Phoebe laughs, then shifts into a coughing fit. We both glance upstairs, but it’s Chloe who stiffens.
“That didn’t sound great,” Carter says.
Chloe’s already moving. “Phoebe?”
I follow her to the stairs, a knot forming in my chest, knowing—just knowing—that this is where everything changes again.
thirty-six
CHLOE
The house settlesand moans around us, like it’s as exhausted as we are, and by the time we make it back to our room, I’m running on fumes.
Phoebe is tucked into bed with Carter’s phone and strict instructions not to wake him unless the house is on fire. I set up his screen time so she couldn’t access any inappropriate apps or videos, immediately after I took her temperature.
I set an alarm on my phone for the next check, even though I know I won’t sleep through it. The only perk to all this is that Aiden is either sleeping too hard to have anymore bad dreams, or having me curled up beside him is having an effect.
I’m too scared to hope for something like that.
Even though Phoebe’s temperature is still reading normal, it feels like navigating a minefield—her cough is concerning. My nerves haven’t come down since after dinner, and my mom-gut says her temp is going to rise at some point.
It’s notif, it’swhen.
My parents retreated to their room, seemingly satisfied with their first full day here.
Reid and Carter are still murmuring in the kitchen about ski slopes and early mornings, their voices low but relentless. I should send them a list of places, but I’m too tired.
Maybe later.
I gently shut the oversized door to our room behind Aiden and rest my forehead against it. The cool wood feels amazing. I drank too much coffee and not enough water today, so there’s a headache brewing at my temples.
“You okay?” he asks.
When I turn, he’s watching me like he’s waiting for the moment my fumes run out.
“I think so,” I say automatically. Then my shoulders sag. “No. I’m exhausted, and my entire body hurts. A bath sounds amazing, but also like way too much effort.”
“What if I pick up some Epsom salts while I’m in town tomorrow?” He reaches for my hand and guides me toward the bed.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Wasn’t my question. Sit,” he says softly.
“Fine.” I sigh, sinking on the edge of the mattress. “I wouldn’t be opposed.”
