“It’s me,” she called. “Don’t freak.”

There was a scream from the bathroom, then Unity stuck her head out, a toothbrush in one hand.

“You gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”

Ellen held up the Starbucks tray. “Sorry. I have a crisis. I figured you’d be up already.”

Unity, annoyingly pretty with bedhead and no makeup, stared at her. “It’s barely six. What time did you get up?”

“I don’t know. Fourish.”

“Then it must be bad. Give me thirty seconds.”

Ellen retreated to the kitchen. It was already well past sunrise, so she didn’t bother with lights, instead collapsing on one of the kitchen chairs and reaching for a coffee. A couple of minutes later, Unity joined her.

Her friend had pulled a T-shirt over jeans. Her feet were bare, as was her face. Unity wasn’t one to bother with things like makeup. Not that Ellen did much, either. It was such a pain in the ass, and time-consuming. Not only did you have to put it all on, later, when you were dog tired and just wanted to go to bed, you had to take it all off. She had better things to do with her life. Like panic.

Unity took the remaining coffee. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“I didn’t think it was bad. Or I was mulling.” Maybe she had been a little embarrassed to share. Yes, Unity was her best friend and they talked about nearly everything, but there was something about what Cooper had said that had made her want to go hide rather than spill her guts.

Unity passed out the sandwiches. She unwrapped hers and took a bite. “Tell me.”

Ellen sucked in a breath, then explained about the overheard conversation. As she spoke all the embarrassment rushed back, along with a good dose of despair, some fear and a bit of chagrin.

“I can’t believe he thinks I’m not capable of being on my own. I’m very capable. I’ve raised him. Yes, my parents helped and I’m grateful but it was mostly me taking care of him. I’m his mom. I handle things. Sure, we talk about being a team, but that’s a family thing, not an ‘I need him to survive’ thing.”

She finished in a rush, then sucked in a breath, only to realize that instead of looking sympathetic, Unity was smiling.

“You think this is funny?” Ellen asked, outraged. “It’s not funny at all. It’s awful. I love Coop with all I have and it turns out I’m holding him back.” She felt her eyes burning. “I’m making his life smaller. That’s terrible.”

Unity stunned her by giving a little wave of dismissal. “It’s not all that. Come on. Last week you were upset he wanted to go away to California to college. Now he doesn’t. Your problem is solved.”

Ellen genuinely couldn’t understand why her friend said that. She might as well have mentioned the price of grapefruit.