"The girls come back at noon," he says.
"I know. I probably shouldn't be here when they do."
"Probably not." He pauses. Turns the coffee mug the way he turns the coin—slow, thoughtful. "Not because I don't want you here. But because Wrenleigh will have questions I'm not ready to answer, and Sadie Jo will know without asking, which is worse."
"Sadie Jo reads you like a book."
"She reads everyone like a book. Gets it from me." Another pause. "Leah?"
"Yeah."
"Last night wasn't… I need you to know that wasn't just—" He stops. Starts again. This is a man who chooses his words like he's paying per syllable, and right now he's spending more than usual. "I don't do casual. I can't. Not with you. Not with who you are to my girls, and to Garrett, and to—" He meets my eyes. "—to me."
My throat tightens. "I don't do casual either."
"Good."
"Good."
We stare at each other across his kitchen table like two people who just discovered they're standing at the edge of something with no railing, and neither of us is stepping back.
"This is going to be complicated," I say.
"It's already complicated."
"Garrett."
"Yeah."
"The club."
"Yeah."
"Your girls."
"Yeah." He takes a breath. "But I'm not sorry about last night. I need you to hear that. Whatever comes next. The complicated parts, the hard parts, all of it. I'm not sorry."
"I'm not sorry either."
And I mean it. I mean it the way I've never meant anything before.
Not when I chose nursing, not when I chose to stay in Morgantown, not when I chose to keep showing up at this man's house with PT exercises and excuses that stopped fooling anyone weeks ago.
I mean it completely.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. Holds it the way he held it on the porch—rough, warm, his thumb finding my knuckles like they belong there.
We finish our coffee.
We don't talk about whatever's been putting armed men on his porch and new locks on his doors.
He doesn't offer and I don't push.
Not yet. Not this morning.
This morning is just coffee, his hand on mine, and the sunrise turning the kitchen gold.
I'll push later. I always do.
