Page 35 of Your Place or Mine

I didn’t answer. Just took another drink and looked around.

Drew followed my gaze.

“You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “Dad would be proud of this place.”

I stiffened.

Here it comes.

“But,” he added, “there comes a point where you have to ask yourself, are you doing this because it’syourdream? Or are you still living someone else’s?”

I turned to glare at him, but he didn’t flinch.

“I built this place,” I said. “I fixed it, kept it going when we didn’t know how we were gonna keep the lights on. She and I…”

I stopped, feeling my throat tighten. Not now. I wasn’t going to go down that path today. Not ever.

“I know,” he said. “But sometimes what starts as yours becomes something else. Something you’re holding onto just because you’re scared of letting go.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t have anything to say.

Because maybe he was right, and I didn’t want him to be.

Because every night when I locked up, I told myself I was living my dream.

Even if sometimes it felt more like a weight than a win.

I looked down at the coffee in my hands.

Still warm.

Still strong.

Still mine.

But maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want to drink it alone forever.

And that was the most unsettling thought of all.

Chapter Ten

Lydia

Melanie was being weird.

Not dramatic weird, which was her usual charm, but twitchy weird.

Quiet.

Which was, frankly, more alarming. She’d just poured herself a second cup of coffee and reorganized the sugar packets on our tiny kitchenette counter like a competitive event.

“Are you… good?” I asked, folding the top of the croissant bag and setting it down.

“I’mgreat,” she chirped.

Suspicious.

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