That did it. My chest caved in a little more.
“But,” he added, stepping closer now, careful like I might spook, “Iwillmake it all right.”
I searched his face for hesitation and didn’t find any. Just resolve. Stubborn, immovable resolve.
Before I could say anything—before I could askhowagain or admit how terrified I was—the front door opened hard.
Footsteps. Fast. Angry.
“Frankie?”
Jake.
He charged straight down the hallway, eyes already scanning, taking everything in. Or rather—nottaking anything in. His momentum carried him into my bedroom doorway and then he stopped dead.
“What the hell?” he snapped, spinning in a slow circle. “Where’s your bed? Where’s your desk—are you—” His head whipped back to me. “You’re moving?”
The disbelief in his voice cracked something loose. I laughed again, a little wetter this time, swiping at my cheek with the back of my hand.
“Apparently.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. He dragged a hand through his hair and started pacing, sharp, restless steps. “This is bullshit. This is so fucked. You can’t just—” He cut himself off, glancing at my face,visibly reining it in. He took a breath. Another. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, careful. “Okay. Okay. Where are you moving?”
I glanced at Archie.
Then back at Jake.
“To Archie’s.”
For a split second, Jake just stared at me. Then his eyes flicked to Archie. Then back to me.
“…Fun,” he said flatly.
Archie didn’t rise to it. He didn’t explain. He just stood there, shoulders squared, like this was already settled in his mind.
Jake resumed pacing, but slower now, contained fury rolling off him in waves. “Why?” he demanded. “Why his place? Why wasn’t this discussed? Why were movers in your apartment like it’s a foreclosure?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Then shrugged helplessly. “Because my mother decided it.” I certainly hadn’t been consulted. Neither of us had been. Archie seemed to be processing better than me, but maybe he just played it better.
Jake swore under his breath and stopped pacing long enough to plant his hands on his hips. “Of course she did.”
He looked at me again, really looked, taking in my backpack still on, the empty room, the way I was standing like if I leaned too far I’d fall apart.
“You okay?” he asked, softer now.
I thought about my cats in crates. About litter dust and cat hair on bare carpet. About how my entire life had been packed up without me.
“No,” I said honestly.
Jake nodded once, jaw tight. “Okay.”
He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t push. Just stayed—angry, coiled, present.
Archie shifted slightly closer to me, not touching, just there.
