He slides a mug toward me before I even reach the counter, like he anticipated my misery. He did. He always does. I take a sip and feel my soul reboot by half a percent. Not enough to be happy. Enough to be functional and slightly less likely to commit a felony.
Kai watches me over the rim of his own mug. “You sleep?”
“Define sleep.”
His mouth twitches. “Two hours?”
“Two and change,” I admit.
Kai’s eyes narrow—not judgment, not anger. Concern, disguised as assessment. He nods once like he’s filing it away. Kai collects information. Catalogs. Remembers. He’ll bring it up later like a slow, inevitable penalty you can see coming but can’t avoid.
He scrolls on his phone again, thumb flicking. “Harlow texted.”
My grip tightens around the mug before I can stop it.
“She okay?” I ask, and I hate that it comes out too fast.
Kai’s gaze sharpens—not angry. Reading me.
“She’s fine,” he says.
Fine means nothing.
“What’d she say?” I ask, forcing casual into my voice like I can trick my body into cooperating.
Kai looks down at his phone. “She went to the rink yesterday. Sat for a bit.”
My stomach does a stupid little drop.
I keep my face neutral. “Yeah?”
Kai’s eyes flick to me. “She didn’t mention running into you.”
My heart kicks once, too hard, like it’s pissed at me.
I shrug. “It was early. I barely saw her.”
Kai’s stare tells me he knows I noticed more than I’m letting on, but he doesn’t push the issue. He just nods.
“She seemed okay?” I ask, and I hate that I ask again.
Kai studies me for a beat. “Why do you ask?”
Because she doesn’t look okay.
She looks like someone who’s been carrying a heavy backpack for too long and keeps telling everyone it’s nothing. She flinched when he called her name, and now I can’t stop seeing it. She laughs like she’s checking whether she’s allowed to. She’s quiet in a world that demands volume.
I don’t say any of that.
I take another sip and shrug. “Just…curious. She just seems like she’s adjusting.”
Kai’s jaw tightens. “Yeah.” He finishes his coffee and sets the mug in the sink. “Lift at ten.”
“I know. I got your text,” I say, because if I don’t, he’ll repeat it like a dad.
Kai’s mouth twitches. “Good.”
He heads toward his room to change, moving with that steady purpose that makes you feel lazy just by existing near him.
