Gone for a walk with Tara & Alfie. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Coffee maker is ready to go—just press start. -Claire
I smile, appreciating both the thoughtfulness and the space. No pressure to make small talk first thing in the morning.
I press the button on the coffee maker and watch as it begins to brew. While waiting, I wander into the living room, taking in the family photos in daylight. Troy and Tara as children, building a snowman. Claire teaching a teenage Troy to drive. A younger Troy accepting some kind of academic award.
The coffee maker beeps. I head back to the kitchen, pour myself a cup, and add a splash of oat milk from the fridge. Perfect.
I'm just taking my first sip when I hear footsteps on the stairs. Troy appears in the doorway, hair sticking up in about six different directions, looking adorably rumpled in flannel pajama pants and a faded UMS t-shirt.
“Morning,” he mumbles, making a beeline for the coffee. “You're up early.”
“Old habits,” I say, hiding my smile behind my mug.Morning Troy is significantly less polished than the one I'm used to seeing. “Your mom and Tara went for a walk.”
He grunts in acknowledgment, pouring coffee and adding an obscene amount of sugar. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Yes. It was nice.”
He smiles, now slightly more awake. “Good. Mom loves having you here. I think she's planning to interrogate you about sustainable architecture over breakfast.”
“I can handle it.” I take another sip of coffee.
The conversation shifts to breakfast plans and whether we should wait for Claire and Tara. I volunteer to make pancakes while Troy sets the table.
“Oh, I need your charger,” he says, reaching for his dead phone. “Mine's upstairs.”
“Bedside table of the guest room,” I say. “Plugged into the wall.”
“You're a lifesaver.” He kisses the top of my head as he passes, and I smile despite myself.
While mixing pancake batter, I realize I forgot to check my own messages. Mr. Abernathy was going to let me know if he needed extra help this weekend. I wipe my hands and head to the guest room to check.
Troy's phone is on the bedside table, now plugged into my charger. As I reach for my own phone, his screen lights up with a notification. I shouldn't look—I know I shouldn't—but the name catches my eye.
Brianna.
It's just sitting there on his lock screen. A preview of a message that makes my heart stop.
Brianna
Thinking about you... You coming to the Alpha party next week?
My fingers hover over the phone. This is an invasion of privacy. This is wrong. But...
Too much hassle. I've got nothing to hide anyway.
His words echo in my mind. Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up his phone. No passcode necessary—the notification is right there on the screen. I tap it, and the entire conversation between the two of them from the last few months appears.
Brianna
You're looking like a snaccc in that gym pic
Haha thanks Bri.
Brianna
We should hang sometime, just us
Haha, yeah, maybe
