“I know you mean well,” Alex was saying, his voice calm but firm. “But mentioning Guardian Hall, even casually to the media in any form, has consequences.”
“I didn’t realize they were going to print it, and I’m sorry, I promise.”
“I know, but there’s only so much room,” Alex continued. “Only so many beds. Only so many staff hours. When people hear about Guardian Hall, they don’t hear limits. They hearhope. And when that hope runs into a locked door… it hurts people.”
Silence stretched.
I could picture Cole’s face without seeing it—the way his jaw went still when he was taking something seriously. The way he didn’t interrupt.
“I’m not saying stop caring, Cole, hell, without you and your board, we’d be floundering,” Alex said more gently. “I’m asking you to be careful. This place survives because we manage expectations.”
Another pause. Then Cole, quieter now. “I get it, I’ll fix it.”
My chest felt full. Heavy.It’s fine. I’m fine.
Cole came out of the office a minute later, his serious expression morphing into a bright smile, coat already on. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said back, matching it as best I could.
He gave me a gentle hug and then straightened. “You ready for the best pasta you’ve ever tasted?”
“Yeah. Is everything okay?” I thumbed back at the building as the front door closed on us and we headed for Cole’s car. He didn’t bother with a driver on our dates, which meant I got to sit up front with him, and on the last time he picked me up, we ended up holding hands at every traffic light.
“I did an interview for a business magazine, they hooked onto the charity work, and I mentioned Guardian Hall off the record, and they printed it, and Alex is worried that will cause an influx they can’t manage.” He opened the car door for me and closed it when I was in, hurrying around to his side. “Typical rich guy thinking he can fix everything,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he buckled himself in.
“You didn’t mean it,” I said, loyal and firm.
“I know, but sometimes…” He huffed. “I don’t think things through. It’s all good I promise.” He reached over and squeezedmy hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “Pasta here we come.”
The date was nice.
That wasn’t a lie. Dinner was at this tiny Italian restaurant, warm and unhurried, the place quiet enough that we didn’t have to talk over each other. Cole asked about my day. I asked about his. He told me a story about Lennox bringing a boring accounts meeting to an end by accidentally on purpose spilling an entire carafe of water on one of the investment managers, and I laughed at the right places.
But the words from Alex’s office stayed with me, tucked under everything else.
“There’s only so much room.”
I’d known that. Of course I had. Guardian Hall wasn’t infinite. It wasn’t meant to be.
Still, knowing something and feeling it settle into your bones were two different things.
“You’re quiet,” Cole said eventually, not accusing. Just noticing.
I took a sip of water, then set the glass down. “I overheard what Alex said. I didn’t mean to, but I thought you might have needed me to go in and help and… nope, no excuse.”
His shoulders shifted, just slightly. “What part?”
“Alex,” I said. “Talking about Guardian Hall. About space.”
Cole’s expression changed to one of reassurance. “It wasn’t about the guests at Guardian Hall; it was about me messing up.”
“I know.” I hesitated, and Cole waited. He was good at that. “I think…” I searched for the right words, refusing to rush them. “I think I’m ready to leave.”
He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t assume.
“I don’t mean tomorrow,” I added. “And not because anyone’s pushing me. I just—” I shrugged. “I don’t feel like I’msupposed to be there forever. And I don’t want to be the reason someone else doesn’t get help.”
Cole nodded slowly. “Okay.”
