This was the worst time of day for me. The quiet hours before the apartment woke up and I had to be functional, before I could slide into caretaker mode and focus on making sure everyone else was okay.
The coffee finished brewing and I poured myself a cup, drinking it black because I couldn't be bothered to dig out the milk or add sugar. It tasted like shit, but it was hot and caffeinated and that was enough.
I sat down at the kitchen table with my phone and started scrolling through bills and messages, trying to calculate how much I still needed to cover rent after Talia's share came through. The math wasn't great, but it wasn't impossible either. The gig today would help, and I had another show at the end of the week that would bring in some cash. I'd make it work. I always did.
Rook's number was still in my wallet. I hadn't looked at it since the night at the bar, but I didn't need to. I'd already memorized it without meaning to, the same way I'd memorized his face and his laugh and the way he'd looked at me like I'd personally hurt him by existing.
I should call him. I knew that. Talia was probably going to tell me the same thing when she woke up, because she had a sixth sense for when I was avoiding dealing with my own life. But every time I thought about it, my brain short-circuited and I found a hundred reasons to put it off until later.
Later. That seemed to be my approach to everything involving Rowan fucking Kincaid.
The apartment started waking up around six-thirty. I heard Poppy's alarm go off first, then footsteps in the hallway as she stumbled toward the bathroom. Micah was next, quieter but still audible as he moved around getting ready for his early class. Talia emerged last, already dressed for work and looking far more put together than anyone had a right to be this early in the morning.
“You're up early,” she said, eyeing me with that particular expression that meant she'd already clocked that I probably hadn't slept well. “Coffee ready?”
“Yeah.” I gestured toward the pot. “Fair warning, it tastes like garbage.”
“As long as it's caffeinated garbage, I'll survive.” She poured herself a cup and sat down across from me at the table, wrapping both hands around the mug like she was trying to absorb the heat through her palms. “You sleep okay?”
“Fine.” The lie came out automatic, and Talia gave me a look that said she wasn't buying it but also wasn't going to push right now.
Poppy wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, still half-asleep and wearing pajama pants covered in cartoon cats. She headed straight for the cereal cupboard without saying anything, which was standard for her before nine in the morning.
“Morning, Pops,” I said, already standing up to grab bowls. “You got that history test today?”
She made a noise that could have meant yes or could have meant leave me alone, I'm not awake yet. I chose to interpret it as the former and set a bowl down in front of her along with her favorite cereal.
“You study?”
“Mm-hmm.” She poured cereal into the bowl and then just stared at it like she'd forgotten what came next.
“Milk's in the fridge.”
“I know where the milk is, Soren.”
Micah appeared in the doorway looking significantly more alert than Poppy, already scrolling through his phone. “Morning. Is there coffee left or did you two kill the whole pot already?”
“There's coffee,” Talia said. “It's terrible, but it exists.”
“I'll take it.” Micah grabbed a mug and poured himself some, doctoring it with enough sugar to make it drinkable. “I've got a group project meeting at eight, so I need to leave in like twenty minutes.”
“You eat breakfast?” I was already pulling bread out for toast, because Micah had a bad habit of skipping meals when he was stressed about school.
“I'll grab something on campus.”
“That's not breakfast, that's a lie.” I dropped two slices into the toaster and pointed at the table. “Sit. You're eating actual food before you leave.”
He rolled his eyes but sat down anyway, which was the important part. I'd learned years ago that the trick to taking care of my siblings wasn't asking them what they needed — it was just doing it and ignoring their protests until they gave in.
The kitchen filled up with the noise of morning routines — cereal crunching, toast popping, Talia scrolling through work emails and muttering about her boss, Poppy slowly coming back to life as the sugar hit her system. I moved through itall on autopilot, packing lunches, reminding Poppy about her textbook, making sure Micah ate the toast I'd made him.
This was my favorite part of the day, honestly. The chaos of getting everyone fed and out the door, the familiar rhythm of making sure they had what they needed, the proof that we'd survived another night and made it to another morning. It didn't fix anything, but it gave me direction, and direction was better than sitting alone with my thoughts.
Talia finished her coffee and stood up to rinse her mug in the sink. “Rent's due at the end of the week.”
“Got it.” I kept my voice light even though the reminder made my stomach tighten. “I've got the rest covered.”
She turned to look at me with one eyebrow raised, and I could see the question forming before she even asked it.
