We find Boone in the office, shoulders hunched over paperwork, Sadie’s drawings pinned crookedly to the wall, reminders of what matters most. He looks up when we come in, already braced.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
I don’t ease into it.
“What are we doing?”
His pen stills. “With what?”
“With Delaney,” I say. “With us.”
The room goes quiet.
Silas leans against the doorframe, saying nothing. Letting me have this.
Boone sets the pen down carefully. Too carefully. “I’m focused on Sadie right now.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say.
His eyes sharpen. “You know Sadie has a lot going on.”
“I’m not trying to start something,” I say evenly. “I just need to know where I stand. Because I don’t.”
Silence stretches.
“I’m still pissed about the lie,” Boone says finally. “And I don’t have the space to sort through everything else.”
“So we just… don’t talk about it?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
“That’s not fair to her,” I add quietly. “Or to us.”
Boone rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion slipping through the cracks. “I didn’t say we ignore it. I said I don’t know.”
I swallow. “Not knowing doesn’t make it go away.”
He looks away.
Silas speaks up then. “For what it’s worth, I like her. I’m not confused about that part. I just don’t know how she feels.”
I nod. “Me neither.”
Boone exhales hard. “Then maybe we stop pushing it.”
“That works for you,” I say. “You’re good at shutting things down.”
Boone stiffens, but he doesn’t argue.
That somehow feels worse.
Silas shifts beside me, clearly wanting to smooth it over, but there’s nothing to smooth. The silence has teeth. Boone’s gaze drifts back to the paperwork. If he looks away long enough, the problem will organize itself.
It won’t.
“I’m not trying to force anything,” I say finally. “I just don’t want to be guessing.”
Boone doesn’t look up. “Then don’t.”
