I keep my face controlled. "You're threatening me."
She shakes her head. "No. I'm warning you. There's a difference."
Silence stretches. The lake moves behind her in the window's reflection.
Demi continues, "Blue doesn't separate sex from attachment. She can't. She's wired for intensity. If you give her your body and withhold your commitment, she'll interpret that as punishment."
My throat tightens again. "You need to mind your own business."
Demi's smile turns thin. "Blue is my business."
"She's my business, not yours," I snap.
Demi steps closer again, invading space with calm confidence. "How?"
"How?" My pulse spikes.
"How is she your business and not mine when I'm her cousin and best friend?" Demi pushes.
My hands flex at my sides, then settle. I declare, "I don't have any ill wishes or motivations toward Blue."
Demi's gaze holds mine. "I'm the one who cleans up blood when men break promises."
"I didn't promise her anything."
Demi's eyes narrow. "That's the problem."
The tension in the room shifts, sharpened by truth. Demi's face stays composed, but a flash of irritation, or maybe it's concern, appears. Then she quickly controls it.
I point out, "You're trying to corner me."
"Blue doesn't need a man who takes from her and calls it healing."
Anger flares hot under my skin. "You don't get to speak about healing when you knew she hurt herself and didn't get her help!"
Demi's mouth curves again. She challenges, "I get to speak about whatever I want. That's why you're here and not still in your apartment."
I hold her gaze, refusing to buckle under her interrogating stare. I state, "You brought me here to ask questions? You could've done this anywhere."
"No. You'd have distractions. You'd have your phone. You'd have traffic noise, neighbors, and excuses. Here, it's just you and the truth you keep trying to bury," she claims.
I let out a slow breath through my nose. "What do you want to hear?"
She narrows her gaze. "I want to hear you take responsibility. Not as a therapist. As a man."
I stare at her, and the quiet realization lands in my chest with a strange weight. Demi's loyalty isn't soft or warm. It's sharp, transactional, and built for survival. But it's as real as real gets.
So I offer, "Our situation is complex. We're figuring it out."
"So you're not running?"
My heart races faster. I don't hesitate, admitting, "No. I already tried to run from Blue."
Demi steps back suddenly, breaking the proximity. "Good. You're not stupid."
I frown. "What?"
"I stocked the kitchen with Blue's favorite food." She turns and walks toward the hallway, footsteps steady.
