After a beat, he says, “You were good today.”
I look at him. “What?”
“With her,” Kai says, like he hates that he’s saying it. “You didn’t crowd her.”
It’s the closest thing I’ll get to praise from Kai Mercer, so I take it.
“Thanks,” I say, keeping it casual. “I know how to behave.”
Kai’s stare says, debatable.
Then he adds, quieter, “Just…don’t make it complicated.”
My chest tightens. I keep my expression flat. “It’s not complicated.”
Kai’s gaze holds mine for a beat too long. I don’t blink.
Finally, he nods once. “Good.”
Then he stands. “I’m going to shower.” He disappears down the hall. And I’m left alone with the quiet—my least favorite environment, because it gives my thoughts room to stretch. I turn the TV on. Sports highlights. Hockey clips. A football recapfeaturing Carter Hayes looking annoyingly successful. I watch it for thirty seconds before the familiar restlessness crawls up my spine. My phone is on the coffee table, face down, like that makes it less tempting.
It doesn’t.
I flip it over. No new notifications. I shouldn’t care.
I do anyway.
I try to wait like a normal person. I stretch. I do dishes that aren’t mine because cleaning makes my brain quieter. I wipe counters that are already clean because apparently Kai’s stress-cleaning habits are contagious.
By the time Kai comes out of the shower, my skin feels too tight. My head is too loud. He pauses in the hallway, towel around his neck, watching me wipe down a counter that’s already spotless.
“You okay?” he asks.
I glare at him. “Stop stealing my line.”
Kai’s mouth twitches. “Answer the question.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
Kai’s eyes narrow. “Liar.”
I point the rag at him. “Go to bed.”
Kai gestures toward the clock like it’s evidence. “It’s nine.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Sleep. Normal human behavior.”
Kai studies me like he knows I’m not really talking about him. Then he nods once and disappears into his room. The apartment quiets again. I stare at my phone. Still nothing. I should put it down. I should read. I should do literally anything else.
Instead, I open the forum.
The PCU insomnia thread is alive, as always—people venting, joking, posting memes like humor is a life raft.
I scroll until I find her username.
LittleTooMuch.
No new message.
