“That’s not true.”
He holds my gaze. “It’s not the kind you think.”
That should be easy to dismiss, but it isn’t, because there’s no pressure in it, just certainty.
“You don’t get to decide what I think.”
“No, but I know you’re already planning how not to need this.”
He’s not wrong.
I push food around my plate. “That’s how I keep things simple.”
“And how’s that working?”
I don’t answer.
“Thought so.”
Hadley’s voice drifts in from outside, light and steady, and something in my chest tightens.
“She’s fine,” he says.
“I know.”
“You still worry.”
“I always worry.”
He nods like that makes sense. “She fits here.”
I look up sharp. “Don’t.”
“I’m not pushing. Just saying what I see.”
“That’s exactly what I don’t need.”
“Seeing it?”
“Naming it.”
Silence settles, heavier now.
He studies me, then nods. “Alright.”
But he doesn’t look like he’s letting it go.
Hadley comes back in, cheeks flushed, climbing onto the stool. “I like it here.”
“Yeah,” I say, brushing her hair back.
Then I look at him, and I know it’s not just her.
And that makes this harder than it was supposed to be.
I don’t realize how quiet it’s gotten again until Hadley’s voice fades off down the hall. Her footsteps slowing instead of running this time, like even she feels the shift settling into the house.
I should go check on her, but I don’t, not right away.
