Something in his voice—certain, proprietary—made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t have time to unpack.
The engine cut. Silence settled.
Jake appeared at the garage entrance a moment later, footsteps sharp against the concrete. He didn’t say anything, just took in the space, the cars, the fact that Archie had already parked like this was settled.
The tension didn’t spike.
It simmered.
I reached for my backpack automatically as I opened the door, but Jake was already there.
“I’ve got it,” he said, grabbing the strap before I could. His fingers brushed mine, brief and warm, before he lifted it over his shoulder like it was nothing.
“Jake—” I started, but he was already moving, already following Archie toward the inner door.
Archie glanced back once, eyes flicking from the backpack to Jake, then back to me. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be.
The door from the garage into the house opened before we reached it.
Jeremy stood there.
He didn’t look annoyed. He didn’t look surprised. He lookedconcerned. Genuinely, unmistakably concerned.
His eyes swept over me from head to foot—my face, my posture, the way my hands were clenched at my sides like I was holding myself together by force of will alone.
“Welcome home, Miss Frankie,” he said gently.
Something in my chest cracked.
“I have spoken with the veterinarian’s office,” Jeremy continued smoothly, stepping aside to let us in. “Your cats are all fine. They’ve had their checkups, their shots, and are in excellent health. They will be here within the hour.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It came out shaky and thin, but it came out.
“I also had some supplies sent over for them while we wait,” he added, his tone precise but kind. “Food, litter, temporary beds. The movers will bring your things shortly and set you up in Mr. Archie’s wing—the butterfly bedroom, I believe that was your favorite the last time you stayed over.”
The butterfly bedroom.
Of course, he remembered.
My vision blurred and I blinked hard, nodding because words were still beyond me.
Archie’s hand found the small of my back, warm and anchoring. Jake shifted behind me, the backpack still slung over one shoulder, his presence heavy and protective in a different way.
Jeremy noticed everything.
Always did.
“If you’d like,” he said softly, “there’s tea ready in the sitting room. Or you may prefer to lie down for a bit. You look… very tired.”
That was it. That was the thing that finally broke through the fog. Jeremy’s kindness had always been like a welcoming, if exceptionally proper hug. I nodded again, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Tea sounds… nice.”
“Of course,” Jeremy said immediately. “I’ll bring it to you.”
As he turned away, Archie guided me forward, and Jake followed without question, without comment. The three of us moved through the house together, close but not touching—except for Archie’s hand at my back and Jake carrying what little piece of my life I’d managed to grab before it was taken from me.
The tension between them was still there.
Quiet. Controlled. Waiting.
