My car is sitting in the driveway. In its usual place.
I blink.
I definitely didn't drive it home.
“Um... no.”
“No?”
“It’s already taken care of.”
He pauses. I know he’s judging me.
“By Violet?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t have to.
He hesitates for a moment before he says, “Get some work done, Drew.”
The line clicks dead.
I stare at my phone.
Then slowly lower it.
"She hasn't snuck into my house," I mutter.
Luna blinks at me.
"...Right?"
She just stares.
Somehow, that doesn't feel like an answer.
48
DREW
I open my laptop.
Then close it.
Then open it again.
The screen stares back at me like it’s personally offended I haven’t done anything productive in the last ten minutes.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter. “I’m supposed to be working.”
Luna, curled into a fluffy ball beside my keyboard, lifts her head just enough to acknowledge me. Then goes back to sleep.
“Don’t judge me,” I say.
She flicks her tail.
That feels like judgment.
