Although I was unsure of how deep her not wanting to stay home alone was until breakfast this morning, I’d known she wasn’t a fan, known she was always nervous at night, but I’d thought it was similar to me—a girl who had always been surrounded by company and wasn’t used to being alone. After seeing the uneasiness on Georgia’s face when Lincoln asked why, I know it’s something deeper than that.

The nervousness on her face matches the nervousness on mine after Quinton’s visit. Something similar happened with her, I’m sure of it, but what I’m not sure of is how to start a conversation about it.

Or if I even should.

I pull out the chair across from her, and my voice becomes hesitant as I take a seat. “Is there something wrong?” I lean back against the seat and take her in, wanting to make sure I don’t miss her reaction to my question. “Are you unhappy about Lincoln spending so much time here?”

She stares at me with intent, her hand resting against her chest. “Oh, absolutely not. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve just seemed … off lately.”

She flicks at the corner of a paper. “Is it that noticeable?”

So, there is something.

“Kind of.” I stare at her, determined to help with whatever she’s struggling with, to be a friend like she was with me during my Quinton issues. “I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but does it have anything to do with me? If so, I want to be able to fix whatever it is. I want you to be happy and comfortable.”

She shrinks in her chair before nodding. “I have been nervous about you moving out now that you and Lincoln are together.” Her words become more rushed. “Not that I’d blame you. I’d probably want to do the same with the man I love, so I wouldn’t take any offense to it. That doesn’t mean it hasn’t crossed my mind more often than it probably should.”

I’m happy she’s not upset about Lincoln crashing with us, but my heart breaks that the thought has been haunting her.

“You don’t need to worry about me moving out,” I say, reaching forward and squeezing her hand. From the fear on her face, that won’t be happening unless she finds someone or says she’s okay with living alone.

She sits up straighter in her chair, as if my words were connected to a chain that lifted her back up. “You know, I don’t care if Lincoln moves in here. It’d actually—and no offense because I love you being here and want to keep you forever—be nice, also having a guy with us, you know? Two girls living alone can be scary at times.”

I love the sound of that.