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“Told you about… um?” Wren studied her face. “She hasn’t,” pale brows furrowed together and she chewed her lower lip.

At a loss, Charlotte remained silent, hoping Wren would reveal something more.

“It’s for her to say. I already feel weird about giving you the key but… When you go in she might not be her usual bubbly self. Don’t freak out, she’ll feel like a burden.”

Wren blinked, lashes lowering as her chin dipped, attention fixed on where her hands wrapped around the edge of the window, knuckles paling as she gripped metal and leather. Her nails held flecks of the same powder blue Ali wore weeks ago. She cleared her throat, chin lifting and eyes that were the kind of blue actresses killed for pleaded with her.

“She’s the most giving and caring person, never asks for anything in return, but she thinks she’s a burden.”

Something cracked in Charlotte’s chest. Ali, who selflessly threw herself into the fray with Victoria just to spare Charlotte, thought herself a burden.

“You know, two weeks after she moved here, she found me crying in the bathroom. I was short on rent.” Wren let go of the door and trailed her fingers absentmindedly along the jagged scar running along part of her jaw and under her chin. Not for the first time Charlotte wondered how she got it. “She came back from her lunch break and handed me the money. Still won’t let me pay her back. Just asked me to play her favorite songs at my next gig which she attended without being asked.”

That sounded so much like Ali.

Charlotte looked across the road where the wind rustled the leaves of the trees lining the street. She wanted to protect Ali’s privacy but she also needed some kind of direction.

“What does she need?”

“Depends. Redirect if you can.” Wren’s lips twitched upwards in a sad smile. “But mostly, just be patient and kind.”

She texted, called, and knocked on the door before using the key to break into Ali’s dim and silent apartment. Light filtered from down the hall mixing with the waning light of evening from the window.

A soft thundering of little padded feet thudded against the floor and Willow’s head popped out from around the corner. She looked at Charlotte, mewing and trotting forward.

Charlotte approached, offering her their usual greeting. “Hello, Purrito.”

But the fur ball didn’t run to her like usual. Instead she hopped up into the air, turned around and trotted back the way she came. Meowing at her before she disappeared from view.

Charlotte followed her to the little studio, peeping her head around the door frame to find Ali perched atop a spindly stool surrounded by crumpled papers. Headphones over ears she hunched over her desk, sketching across the page.

She looked exhausted.

If Victoria caused this… Charlotte tamped down the fury sparking in her veins. Anger was the last thing Ali needed. But based on Wren’s response something more was behind her current state.

Her knuckle rapped loudly against the doorframe, trying and failing to draw her attention.

A weary sigh left Ali just before she ripped the page from the pad, crumpled it and tossed it in the direction of the trash can where it bounced off the rim and joined the growing collection.

“Just one more,” she muttered.

Charlotte looked at the mass of crumpled papers, to Ali, and Willow who was sitting right beside her with an expression which seemed to say… See what I have to deal with? She wondered just how many times Ali said just one more that evening alone.

Closing the distance she rested her hand on Ali’s shoulder. She startled, though not as much as Charlotte expected. Coffee dark eyes looked up at her wide and full of apprehension.

Ignoring her mounting concern, Charlotte pulled one of the ear cups back, sound blaring free.

“Hello, darling.”

Winding a loose strand of red hair around her finger, she tugged, hoping her affection was clear.

Ali’s teeth worried her lower lip. Her attention dropped back to the pad of paper, hiding behind a curtain of copper. The pencil in her hand began a familiar tapping against the page. One Charlotte now realized bore a rhythm.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Pause…

Tap, tap, tap, tap.