Sadie laughs. “Mikey being normal is the biggest plot twist of the decade.”
My mouth twitches, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah. Well, he’s being very respectful.”Unfortunately.
There’s a pause on the line. A small one. But Sadie hears everything, even what I don’t say. “Anything weird?” she prods gently.
“No,” I answer too quickly. “No. It’s good. It’s helping. No more commute time. I get to sleep in until seven instead of having to get up at five-thirty. It’s nice.”
“Good,” she states, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “And you? You’re okay?”
“Yes,” I confirm, and this time it’s closer to the truth.
Sadie hums. “Dean says hi.”
My heart softens. “Tell him hi.”
“I will. Also, Quinn?” She hesitates. “If you need anything…”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I promise. I’m fine.”
The line goes quiet again. Sadie doesn’t push. She never pushes when she knows pushing will make me retreat further.
“Okay,” Her voice soft. “Call me later?”
“Yeah,” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Later.”
When we hang up, I stare at my computer screen and realize my hands are clenched. I force them to relax. This is why I don’t do complications. Because I don’t like feeling like I’m one phone call away from unraveling.
By the time I get home, it’s later than usual on purpose. I told myself I’d stay a little longer to get ahead on work. Which isn’t a lie. I did. But I also stayed because the idea of walking into Mikey’s apartment feels like stepping into something I’m not ready to name.
I take the stairs to the top floor and pause outside the door, listening. Music, faintly. Something low and rhythmic. Not loud. Just atmosphere. I unlock the door quietly and step inside.
The apartment is dimmer now, the warm light of lamps casting soft shadows across brick and leather and dark wood. Mikey is in the living room, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, tapping out a beat on the drum pad. His back is to me. He turns at the sound of the door closing.
“Hey,” he greets me. His voice is neutral, his face guarded.
“Hey,” I give a small wave.
We stand there for a moment, both of us holding the air between us like it might break if we breathe too hard. I force myself to move first. I walk toward the kitchen, set my bag down, and start doing something practical by rinsing my travel mug, and then wiping a nonexistent spot on the counter.
Mikey watches me, and I can feel his gaze like a weight. “You eat?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
He nods slowly like he doesn’t believe me. “Okay.”
Silence again.
I turn slightly, leaning my hip against the counter, keeping distance. Keeping control.
“I’m going to go chill in my room,” I rush out, voice even. “Long day.”
“Okay,” he repeats, like he’s trying to keep his tone neutral too.
I start down the hall before my courage can falter.
“Quinn.”
His voice stops me mid-step. I turn halfway, not fully facing him. “What?”
