Luke has been staying here every night since the intrusion. He doesn’t say it’s about protection, but he checks the locks without thinking and positions himself between me and the door whenever someone knocks. I hear his boots cross the tile and glance up as he steps into the kitchen. He reads my face before I speak.
“They confirmed taping,” I say. “Four days.”
He nods once and pulls out the chair across from me. There’s no flare of concern in his expression. No hesitation. Just calculation.
“They’ll start running promos tomorrow,” I continue. “Audience questions. Live reactions. Editing.”
“You accounted for editing.”
“Yes.”
“And you can pull it if they manipulate it.”
“I can.”
He studies me for a moment longer. “Then what’s actually bothering you?”
I hesitate, then admit it. “If this explodes the way I think it will, the youth center won’t just be reviewed. It’ll be frozen. Shane’s sponsors won’t wait for the truth. Your name will get dragged into it. So will your parents’ development project.”
He leans forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees. “He’s already pulling those levers.”
“I know.”
“So the only real question is whether you let him frame you first.” There’s no accusation in his tone. Just clarity.
Silence settles between us for a moment, but it isn’t strained. It feels like the quiet before a decision hardens.
He shifts in his chair, then says, almost casually, “Is the offer to move in still good?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?”
“If I give up the apartment,” he says more directly. “If I’m here. Completely.”
I search his face for humor. There isn’t any. “I thought you were already here,” I reply softly.
He gives a faint shake of his head. “Not the way you are.”
I straighten in my chair. “Explain.”
He stands and walks to the window, hands sliding into his pockets. His shoulders are broad and solid, but there’s something exposed in the way he’s holding himself.
“I kept it because I didn’t feel like I brought anything comparable into this,” he says. “You have a house, influence, and resources. I have gloves and a lease. If Imoved in, I didn’t want it to look like I was folding into your life because I didn’t have one strong enough on my own.”
It takes me a second to process that. “You think I measure you against my bank account?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I think you don’t. That doesn’t mean I don’t.”
I move toward him slowly. “Luke, you are the most constant thing in my life right now. Not because you fight people. Not because you protect me. Because you stay. Even when it’s messy. Even when it costs you.”
He turns to face me fully.
“I don’t need you to match my assets,” I continue. “I need you to match my courage. And you do. Every day.”
The tension in his shoulders eases, not completely, but enough.
“I don’t want an exit plan,” he says finally. “Not anymore.”
“Then don’t keep one,” I reply.
