"He's a menace." But she was smiling as she said it, scratching behind Watson's ears until he settled back down, purring smugly.
She stifled a yawn.
"I should get some rest. Long week ahead."
"Yeah. Moving and everything."
"Moving and everything."
She stood, Watson cradled against her chest, and paused at the bedroom door.
"Goodnight, Brian."
"Goodnight, Ava."
She disappeared into the bedroom. The door clicked shut.
I sat in the quiet apartment, beer warming in my hand, and replayed the moment that almost happened. The lean. The breath. The way she'd looked at me like maybe she wanted the same thing I did.
Watson had interrupted. Maybe that was for the best. Ava was dealing with enough without me complicating things.
But sitting there in the lamplight, I couldn't stop wondering:
How long could I keep pretending that “just roommates” would be enough?
CHAPTER 6
Ava
The ceilingin Brian's bedroom had a crack in it.
A thin, jagged line that started near the window and wandered toward the closet, like a river on a map no one had bothered to follow. I'd been staring at it for an hour. Maybe two. Watching the streetlight outside trace shadows across the plaster.
Watson was a warm weight on my chest, his purr rumbling through my ribs. His yellow eyes had long since closed, whiskers twitching as he dreamed whatever small murders cats dream of. He looked peaceful. Completely at ease.
One of us should be.
I turned my head toward the door. Closed, but thin. On the other side, Brian settled on the couch. The creak of cushions. A soft exhale. Familiar sounds. Four years of hearing them through the wall between our apartments.
Now there was just a door.
I closed my eyes, and it came back anyway. The lamplight. The way he'd leaned forward—barely. Just enough to close the distance by inches.The breath that caught in my throat before Watson decided to interrupt.
I'd wanted to kiss him.
I waited for the panic. It didn't come.
Four years of careful distance. Of telling myself friendship was enough. That needing him would be a weakness. But I'd wanted to close that gap. To find out if he tasted the way he smelled—like safety, like something I'd been circling for years without letting myself land.
What the hell was I doing?
The firehouse crew descended at 8 AM like an invasion force with a battle plan.
Brian had warned me they'd come to help with the move. What he hadn't mentioned was the scale of it.
I was still in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair escaping my braid, when Shane walked in and surveyed the stacked boxes.
"Where's the truck?" He grabbed the nearest box.
