Totally fine.
I was absolutely not on the verge of financially combusting.
I stood and paced my tiny apartment, trying to breathe around the rising panic.
Livvi would help me if I asked. She absolutely would give me the whole monthly rent instead of her half. She’d probably tuck me under a blanket, spoon-feed me homemade soup, and insist on paying our rent until I “figured myself out.”
But the thought made my stomach twist. Because asking her for money meant admitting I couldn’t stand on my own two feet. It meant being the messy friend. The dependent friend.
I loved her. I did. But I wanted to build something on my own. Not borrow someone else’s stability like a cardigan that didn’t quite fit.
I’d spent my entire childhood cushioned by other people’s money. If I was going to build a life that actually belonged to me, I needed to know I could stand without someone catching me every time I wobbled.
Something had to change.
Because if I didn’t choose my own direction soon, someone else—my parents, their expectations, their money—would choose it for me.
I needed to take control of my life. Soon. Today. Yesterday.
I needed?—
A knock at my door.
I froze.
Another knock. Harder.
I approached the door slowly, cautiously, because some days it felt like the universe loved surprise attacks.
It couldn’t be Livvi—she obviously wouldn’t knock, and she was at her boyfriend Talon’s apartment tonight, probably eating Chinese and watching their shared pet fish, Sapphire, while they talked about romantasy books.
And I wasn’t expecting anyone else.
Which meant either a package delivery, a serial killer, or my landlord showing up early to remind me about rent in person.
When I opened it, I found?—
Ledger.
Still-damp hair. Still-exhausted eyes. Still the man who set my temper on fire.
He held something in his hand—my forgotten water bottle.
I’d been so caught up in my interaction with Ledger that I hadn’t even realized I’d left it where I had been stretching.
“This was on the path.” His voice was low, flat, but not mean. “Thought you’d want it back.”
And then he handed it to me.
Like a normal person.
And for one baffling second, I forgot how to speak.
Not because he was Ledger Hayes, but because up close, damp and quiet and not trying to get a rise out of me, he was disarming in a way I did not appreciate.
Something really was off.
Something was wrong.
