"We're still unpacking. Kitchen's a disaster, but once it's functional, you're welcome to come test the oven. You know. Make sure it works. With cookies. Or pie. Or bread. Whatever your heart tells you."
The invitation hits weirdly sideways.
Bake.
In another kitchen.
One that doesn't feel like a crime scene of my own making.
"I don't know. I'm kind of... banned."
His head tilts. "From baking?"
"From things. From being underfoot."
"That's not how bans work. That's how bad management works."
A sharp, startled laugh escapes me.
He sobers. "Look. No pressure. Really. But if you want... if it would help to have somewhere else to put sugar in the oven where no one will think you’re underfoot... our door is open."
It's too much.
Too kind.
The words choke.
I nod instead. "Thanks."
He takes the hint.
"I should get back before Alex decides I got kidnapped by a rival HOA. Nice to meet you, Vee."
"Nice to meet you too."
He pauses, hand on the latch. "Hey. For what it's worth... you don't look second-hand to me."
My heart slams against my ribs.
"What?"
His expression twists. "Sorry. That was weird. I overhear things. Walls are thin. Someone yelled that phrase about 'Vee' last week when we were here signing paperwork and it's been bothering me ever since."
Heat burns up my neck. "It's—"
My throat closes.
Finn's gaze is gentle. "None of my business. But whoever said it was wrong."
He slips through the gate before I can crack open or shatter.
I stand there with my hand pressed to my bare throat, feeling absolutely nothing where marks aren't and something huge under my skin.
Unmarked. Second-hand.
New neighbors who smell like nothing and still manage to feel a little like air.
***
