Keaton closed the door to his apartment, the quiet pressing in on him like an unwelcome companion. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake the lingering tension from his shoulders as he headed straight for the spare room.
The white walls were too stark, too sterile. He didn’t bother locking the door to the apartment when he ran downstairs. There had to be some leftover paint he could put on the walls. Itdidn’t take long to find what he was looking for, so he gathered all the supplies he’d need and lugged everything back up the stairs. He’d just created more work for himself, but it’d be worth it.
If he hadn’t heard from Jules by morning, he planned to call them to set up a time to handle the key swap. If he’d been the one moving in, he would have already reached out, but that was just another way he and Jules were opposites.
As he spread plastic sheeting over the floor, Keaton’s mind wandered back to the barbecue. Luke and Noah’s easy affection, Finn’s laughter, Paige’s knowing looks. Being surrounded by friends and family who seemed so content with their lives shone a spotlight on how lonely Keaton was. Damn his mom and sister for needling him that night at dinner. Ever since then, the thought of never finding someone to share his life with had been clawing at the recesses of his mind.
Unfortunately, every time he imagined someone walking next to him through the woods, his companion was the same.
Jules.
It was after eleven when Keaton finally had everything set to rights. The walls were still tacky, but not so much that he couldn’t push the furniture back where it belonged.
Keaton stood in the center of the room, surveying it with a critical eye. The bed was made, the sheets crisp and inviting. A small nightstand held a lamp, its base a warm, earthy tone that complemented the freshly painted soft green walls. It was a space designed for comfort, for welcoming someone in.
He moved to the bookshelf, fingers trailing over the spines of neatly arranged books. He wondered if he should have waitedto paint, if he should have left the shelves bare so Jules could make the space their own. He started pulling the books from the shelf, then stopped himself. For some reason, he needed a clear indication that this was his space and Jules was only there for a little while.
I’m helping them out. That’s all.
Keaton went to his room and pulled a few hangers from his closet, placing them in the spare room’s closet before pausing. Would they even use them?
Keaton thought about the outfits he’d seen Jules wearing when they weren’t working. Soft, oversized sweaters with fitted jeans and chunky boots. A bright-purple button-down shirt he’d wanted to run his fingers over to see if it was silk. He walked back to his room to grab more hangers. Jules would definitely need them.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, glancing at the screen to see a text from Paige.
You okay?
Keaton hesitated before dialing her number, bringing the phone to his ear. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey,” Paige greeted, her voice warm and familiar. “You left the party early.”
“Yeah,” Keaton replied, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Just needed some space.”
Paige’s silence was knowing, an unspoken prompt for him to continue. Keaton sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know the guys mean well, but they’re almost as bad as you andMom. Meanwhile, my head’s a fucking mess trying to figure out what in the hell I’m doing here.”
“You’re making space,” Paige said softly. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”
Keaton swallowed hard, her words striking a chord. “It’s not like that. It’s just… They needed a place, and I had room.”
He was starting to feel like a broken record.
“Uh-huh,” Paige replied, her skepticism clear. “And I’m sure you’re just being a Good Samaritan. Keaton, it’s okay to admit you invited Jules to move in because you like them.”
He stared at the empty room, the silence heavy with the weight of his unspoken fears. “What if it’s a mistake?” he asked quietly, the vulnerability in his voice surprising even himself.
“What if it’s not?” Paige countered. “What if it’s exactly what you need?”
Keaton didn’t have an answer for that. He knew what he wanted to say, to insist he was fine on his own, that he didn’t need anyone. But the words wouldn’t come.
“Just think about it,” Paige said gently. “You deserve to be happy. To have more than just work. Maybe this is the first step in that direction. Them staying with you isn’t some huge declaration of intent or anything, but it could be a sign to yourself that you’re finally realizing you want more out of life than coming home to an empty apartment at the end of the day.”
He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Thanks, Paige.”
“Anytime,” she replied, her voice a balm against the turmoil in his chest. “Call me if you need anything. Okay?”
“Okay.”
They ended the call, and Keaton stood there for a moment longer, the silence settling around him like a heavy blanket. He glanced around the room, at the bed and the bookshelf, at the space he’d unwittingly made for someone else.
