She smiles faintly. “Thanks.”
I usher Mark and Alex out, pulling the door closed behind us with more care than necessary.
“She looks scared,” Mark says immediately.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Alex counters.
“She’s fine,” I say, more firmly than I mean to. “Just shaken.”
We move into the kitchen, the normalcy grounding. Coffee brewing. Bread popping into the toaster. Mark pulling out bacon like this is any other Sunday morning and not the aftermath of someone almost losing control of her own body.
“If she doesn’t feel well enough to go home,” I add, casual but deliberate, “she can stay here. I can work from home Monday if I need to.”
Both of them freeze.
“What?” I ask.
Alex shakes his head slowly, a grin forming. “Nothing. Just… wow.”
“I knew it,” Mark declares. “You’ve had the hots for her all along.”
“You’re just now figuring this out?” Alex adds.
I cross my arms and lean back against the counter, watching them dissect me like I’m not standing right here.
“It’s not like that,” I say automatically.
They just stare.
I sigh. “Fine. I like her.”
There it is.
No lightning. No panic. Just truth, sitting there between us like it’s always been waiting.
I take a sip of coffee and their grins widen.
Shit.
“She’s behind me, isn’t she?” I mouth.
They nod.
Of course they do.
I turn.
Audra stands in the doorway, my robe rolled up at least fifty times so she doesn’t trip over it. It still drags behind her anyway. Her face is bare — freckles visible, makeup gone — and her hair is twisted up messily. Her usual fireball energy is there, muted by exhaustion and something fragile she doesn’t quite know what to do with.
She looks… real.
“Mark made you some lemon tea,” I say quickly. “Toast’s almost done. Butter? Jam?”
“Um,” she says, glancing between us. “Just a teaspoon of sugar in the tea. I think I’ll try dry toast. But that bacon Mark’s frying smells amazing.”
“If you can hold down the toast,” I say, “you can dive into the bacon.”
She nods. “Deal.”
