“I’m not picky,” I replied.
A corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Then he took a step back, giving me space in a way that felt careful and intentional, yet the absence of his body felt louder than his presence.
I turned toward the counter, grateful for something todo, and spotted two mugs already poured. Steam curling up in lazy spirals.
“You didn’t have to,” I said.
“I was up,” he replied simply.
Of course he was.
I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the warmth ground me. Took a sip. Strong. No sugar.
“This is good,” I said.
“Yeah,” he agreed, though he was watchingme, not the coffee.
“How long have you been up?” I asked.
“Long enough.”
I studied him more closely now, gentler. The tension in his shoulders. The way his jaw stayed tight even at rest.
“You didn’t sleep,” I said softly, and he didn’t deny it.
“Hey,” I said gently. “I can take Harper to school if you want. You’ve got a long drive—”
“No.” The word came fast, almost reflexive.
I blinked.
“I mean…” He exhaled and ran a hand over his face. “I’ve got it. That’s the deal. I’ll handle mornings.”
“Oh,” I said, my heart doing an odd dip. “Okay.”
He straightened, his shoulders squaring as his gaze fixed on the cupboard across the room. The openness from seconds ago vanished, replaced with a polite distance.
“You’re free to head out whenever,” he added. “I appreciate you staying, but I don’t need you rearranging your whole life around us.”
“It’s really okay,” I said brightly. “I’m happy to help. I just thought—options.”
“I don’t need options,” he replied, not unkindly. “I need consistency. For her.”
There it was.
The line in the sand.
I nodded, swallowing the sting. “Right. Of course.” I smiled, because that’s what I do. Because smoothing things over feels safer than sitting in the discomfort.
He looked at me then, like he was taking me in. His gaze traced my face, lingering just long enough to feel intentional before he pulled away.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “For helping.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
He nodded before taking a step back, then another, creating space as if it were necessary for survival. And maybe, for him, it was.
And then, I watched him retreat down the hall, shoulders squared, composure snapping back into place like muscle memory.
