I sit down on the bed, folding my legs beneath me. “Adrienne was quiet, but… not mean. I don’t think she knows what to do with me either.”
“You’re a walking plot twist,” Maeve says. “They had to recalibrate their whole family dynamic. They had time to get used to the idea of you, but interacting when you’re actually there is a different scenario entirely.”
I laugh under my breath. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and none of this will be real.”
“Isobel, this is real. The bed you’re sitting on? Yours. The weirdly formal dining room? Also, yours. And if anyone makes you feel like you don’t belong, just remember, you do.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’m trying.”
Maeve’s voice softens. “You don’t have to win them over in a day. You don’t have to prove you deserve to be there. Just exist. Be you. That’s more than enough.”
Tears burn and I try to blink them away. “You always say the right things.”
“I’m your best friend. It’s literally in the job description.”
I lay back on the bed, the duvet soft and heavy across my legs. “I wish you were here.”
“I do too. But I’m only a call away. You got this, Iz. You’ve survived worse. Now you get to figure out what it means to live.”
I close my eyes. “One marble hallway at a time?”
“One fancy light switch at a time,” she corrects. “And claim the good bathroom before Dakota gets any ideas.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I laugh. “But I actually have my own bathroom.”
“Lucky bitch.” Maeve’s smile fills her voice. “I only hate you a little for that.”
“Sorry.” I wince.
“No! Don’t you dare apologize, Isobel Ashthorne. You enjoy all the perks. I’ll enjoy them when I come and visit.”
We fall quiet, the line buzzing softly between us. My heart aches, missing my best friend.
Then Maeve says, “I hope you sleep okay tonight.”
I don’t answer right away. Just let her voice settle into the quiet of the room.
“Me too,” I whisper.
“If not, text me. I’ll send you memes. Or a playlist. Or possibly threatening audio messages you can play on a speaker near Adrienne.”
That makes me smile.
“Thanks, Maeve.”
“Always.”
I end the call, set the phone down, and crawl beneath the covers. The sheets are crisp and expensive. It’s a completely new world.
I still feel like I don’t quite fit. But… maybe I could.
8 FIGHT OR FLIGHT
The house is dark. Just creaking wood, rotting carpet, the static buzz of a broken lamp.
The air is heavy, too thick to breathe. I know I’m dreaming, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.
The floor groans outside the door. Then his voice. Low. Slurred. Too close.
