“I want to,” he said simply. “We help our people.”
The word people landed differently now. It didn’t feel conditional. It felt chosen.
By midafternoon, the apartment buzzed with purpose. Orders were labeled. Shipping supplies stacked by the door. Daniel had a running checklist taped to the fridge and crossed things off with aggressive satisfaction. I checked the time and realized I hadn’t thought about my dad once in hours.
That felt like progress.
When Noah set a bottle of water next to me and nudged it closer with his knuckle, I caught his wrist gently. “Thank you,” I said, quieter than I meant to.
He leaned down, voice just for me. “You don’t ever have to thank me for believing in you.”
My chest did that thing again.
The day kept moving, but something had shifted underneath it all. The fear wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t steering anymore. I was building something real, with people who showed up instead of tearing me down.
The back of my mind told me the other shoe would drop. It always did, but I shoved that stupid shoe out of my brain and buried it deep. I wasn’t gonna let anything get in the way of this dream. Not a single thing.
28
NOAH
The group chat exploded before I even hit send.
I didn’t bother explaining. I typedneed hands tonight, moving stuff to help Em, food on meand dropped the address pin. That was all it took. The replies came fast enough to make my phone vibrate against my palm—Quinn with about fifteen emojis and a promise to “bring vibes,” Jordan’s singleon my way, Oliver’s thumbs-up that meant yes. Callum O’Toole chimed in too, because of course he did, immediately asking if this was anormal move or a potential crime scene.
I stared at the screen longer than necessary, chest tight with gratitude. This part of my life—the team, the instant response, the lack of questions—was something I trusted. No leverage. No guilt. No one asking what they’d get in return. They showed up.
Nat would’ve done that. She would’ve showed up without questions and with a six-pack of beer and a terrible idea.
By the time the first knock hit the door, the apartment was already halfway dismantled. Em and Daniel had pushed furniture into strange configurations, boxes stacked in uneven towers, fabric spilling out of bins like we’d angered a craft store god. The place felt alive in a new way, and I loved it. I couldn’t stop myselffrom thinking about how quiet and boring this place would be without Em and her dreams, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that. I cleared my throat, focusing on my teammates.
Quinn was first through the door, wearing slides, gym shorts, and a hoodie that had no business being that expensive. He took one look around and let out a low whistle. “So this is what domestic bliss looks like?” he asked, spreading his arms wide. “Sewing machines. Spreadsheets. Uh, why?”
“Quinn,” Em said sharply, hands on her hips. “Touch anything without asking and I will absolutely end you.”
He froze mid-reach, eyes bright with delight. “I don’t think I’d mind watching you try.”
Before I could respond or hit him for his stupid flirting, Jordan came in behind him carrying a roll of packing tape. He scanned the room once, nodded, and immediately started breaking down a shelving unit without saying a word. Callum followed, clapping his hands together and surveying the chaos like he was mentally calculating how many beers this would earn him later.
“This feels like the start of a montage,” Callum said. “Do we need music? I think we do. I got it. What’s your speaker name?”
“No,” Oliver replied from behind him, already lifting a box markedTHREAD – DO NOT DROP. “We need efficiency.”
That earned him a glare from Quinn. “You are the least fun large man I’ve ever met.”
“I carry more than you,” Oliver said calmly.
Quinn opened his mouth, looked at the box Oliver was lifting one-handed, then shut it again. “Whatever. Now, let’s get to work.”
Daniel grinned at everyone, his eyes lighting up.
The apartment filled with noise after that. Laughter bounced off the walls. Someone yelled about tape like it was a personal betrayal. Daniel started issuing directions with alarming authority,pointing and reorganizing grown men like chess pieces. Quinn picked up a box labeledPATCHES – FRAGILElike it weighed nothing and whistled.
“These are tiny,” he said. “Are these jewels?”
“Yes,” Em said. “Put them down.”
“I feel like I should apologize to them,” Quinn murmured, lowering the box carefully. “They seem important.”
