The kindness in her voice is truly unexpected. I blink at her, unsure what to say. “That’s . . . really generous of you, but I don’t want to impose. If it’s easier, I can leave tomorrow.”

“Please,” Delilah says firmly. “Stay as long as you need.”

“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Gale insists, steady but soft. “We’ve got the space, and I know how hard it can be to start over.”

Malerick, who’s been silent until now, shifts in his seat. His dark eyes meet mine, unreadable but locked in. “Are you in trouble?”

The question strikes like a blade, slicing through my breath and leaving my lungs empty. My grip hardens on the edge of the counter.

“No,” I say, the lie slipping out so fast I barely register it. “I just don’t like to stay in one place.”

He nods as if he understands. But I don’t think he does, or maybe he doesn’t believe me.

“We all have our reasons for starting over,” Gale says, her voice gentle but never pitying. “If you ever want to talk about yours, I’m here. No judgment.”

Something in my throat tightens. I force a nod. “Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You do that. Our house is open to you,” she says before they leave.

Once they’re gone, Delilah leans against the espresso machine, arms crossed, watching me.

“They seem nice,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

“They are,” she replies easily. “Gale’s one of those people who’d give you the shirt off her back if she thought you needed it.”

“And Malerick?”

Delilah chuckles. “Mal? He’s got a soft spot under all that seriousness. Don’t let him intimidate you.”

I hesitate. “I appreciate the offer, but⁠—”

“You need help and staying at the hotel is going to cost you more than what we will pay you,” she cuts me off. “I’d offer you my place, but trust me, my mother is not the best roommate in the world. And yes, you guessed it, I live with my mother. Don’t judge.”

“I wouldn’t judge,” I say with a shrug.

“Oh, good,” Delilah says with mock relief. “But just so you know, I didn’t move in with her—she moved in with me. I left town for college, worked in a bunch of places, and when I finally came back and bought my house . . . Guess who suddenly decided hers needed a complete renovation?”

“Your mom?”

“Bingo.” She groans. “It’s been almost two years, and the place is still under construction. Meanwhile, my kitchen is bright yellow, and she’s swapped out the curtains about eight times because, apparently, they need to change with the season.”

I can’t help but laugh.