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I let that settle. Roman didn’t speak about what made him feel safe often. And suddenly, Doris and her damn suspicion log didn’t seem so funny anymore. It felt like a threat to something fragile and rare. Something Roman had found and clung to.

I nodded again, slower this time. “That makes sense.”

We stood in the silence, the absurdity of the evening lingering between us.

“But if Doris keeps barging in like she’s got a badge and a warrant, we may need to think about Plan B, Roman.”

He chuckled softly. “Define Plan B.”

“Somewhere with fewer crystal-loving exes. And a landlord that isn’t allergic to animal fur.”

He didn’t answer. But for the first time since I’d opened the door, I heard him breathe easy. And weirdly, so did I.

“Well,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair, “I guess you’ll be needing cuddling now?”

He let out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He slumped onto the couch.

“I’m too freaked out to be emotional,” he said. “That was way too close.”

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall. “You’re telling me. Doris had that clipboard cocked like a weapon.”

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t lose this place, Mags. This is the only space I’ve ever lived in that didn’t make me feel like I was about to crawl out of my skin. It works for me. I love it here.”

I looked around at the worn rug in the living room and the chipped navy cabinets I used to hate but had now grown oddly fond of. The way the light hit the walls in the morning made everything look a little less like a rental and a little more like a life.

I sighed. “You’re right. It’s a very special apartment.”

Roman nodded, eyes still haunted. He looked like someone who’d narrowly avoided being exiled from a sanctuary. In a way, he had.

Which made what I had to say next really unfortunate. “If you love it so much, maybe get some control over your wolf and don’t howl in the middle of the freaking night.”

His head dropped back against the cushion with a thud. “Okay. Fair.”

I yawned and stretched, calculating how little sleep I could function on tomorrow. “If I’m excused from my roommate obligations for the evening, I’d like to get some shut-eye before I turn into the kind of person who cries at commercials.”

I headed toward the hallway, feet padding softly across the wood. Halfway there, I stopped and gave the thermostat a dirty look. The living room might’ve been Roman’s safe space, but it was also the temperature of a glacier. I jabbed the button a few times until it nudged up to a human-rights-approved seventy-two.

“Roman, it’s so freaking cold in here,” I grumbled.

When I turned, he was right there.

I yelped and stumbled back a step. “Roman, what the fuck? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re a werewolf ninja now?”

He narrowed his eyes at the thermostat and made a grunting noise I didn’t like. “You’re violating the roommate agreement, Mags. Sixty-eight degrees. This is why we have clauses like civilized beings.”

“Oh my god. Did you memorize the roommate agreement?”

He didn’t answer. Which was an answer.

I sighed. “If you’re so committed to having the apartment be an icy tundra, you’d better buy me a space heater. Like, a nice one. Digital. Rotating. Maybe one of those fake fireplace ones with the little glowing logs.”

Roman huffed as he adjusted the blanket around his hips. “Fine. Whatever.”

He turned on his heel and stomped down the hallway toward his room. I stared after him for a second, shook my head, and cursed under my breath. Then I flicked the thermostat back to seventy, whispered an apology to the energy bill, and trudged to my room, already dreading tomorrow’s breakfast conversation.

I flopped into bed, yanking my not-warm-enough blanket up to my chin and groaned. It was so freezing that I was starting to question my life choices. I grabbed the sweatpants draped over the foot of the bed and pulled them on over my shorts.

“I didn’t sign up for cold drafts and drama,” I muttered to the ceiling.