Page 63 of One Room Vacancy
Wes and Savannah live in a cottage-style house tucked between two streets that both have “Maple” in the name, which has always felt unnecessarily confusing, but somehow on brand for them.
I don’t text, I don’t call. I just show up.
Savannah answers the door barefoot, a coffee mug in hand, her eyes widening the second she sees me.
“Come in,” she says, already stepping aside. “We were just talking about you.”
That makes my stomach lurch.
“I’m not staying long,” I say, even as I step inside.
“Sure,” she says softly. “But there’s muffins. And coffee.”
Wes leans around the corner, expression unreadable. “You okay?”
I open my mouth to lie.
And fail.
Savannah sets the mug down in front of me, then pauses a second too long, her eyes sweeping over my face. Not judgmental—just quietly observant. Like she’s trying to fill in the blanks with the pieces I’m not saying out loud.
Wes, meanwhile, is still focused on his coffee like it’s a tactical decision.
“You wanna talk about it?” Savannah asks, gentle.
I shrug. “He left.”
Her gaze flicks briefly to Wes, who doesn’t even flinch.
“Wait, who left?” he asks, not following.
“Gabe,” I say. “After a fight. Last night.”
Wes frowns, confused. “Why were you guys even fighting?”
Savannah doesn’t say anything, but her brow arches just slightly. She knows we’ve hooked up in the past, she even knows I’ve had feelings for him, but I’ve always downplayed it. I’m sure she knows more than she lets on, or at least suspects.
Wes, though? Wes still thinks I’m the same girl who got heart-eyes for Gabe Keaton back when we were all too young to know better—only a couple years ago, though it feels like a lifetime. The same girl who used to swear she was so over it, even when it was obvious she wasn’t.
I glance at Savannah, and the softness in her eyes damn near guts me. She’s not surprised. She’s sad for me.
Wes, bless him, just rubs a hand down his face and says, “Okay, clearly I’m missing something.”
“You’re not,” I lie. “Not really.”
Savannah gives me a look but doesn’t push. Instead, she picks up the leash hanging by the back door. “I’m gonna take Daisy out,” she says casually, like it’s not a complete favor. Like she’s not giving me space on purpose. “Text me if you need anything.”
I nod, and she’s gone from the room, barreling toward the tiny dog perched on the end of the stairs. She whistles to get the attention of their brand-new goldendoodle puppy Wes insisted on them getting settled before the baby comes. Something about “every kid needs to grow up with a dog.”
Wes watches the door close behind Savannah, then turns to face me fully. Arms crossed, brow furrowed. “All right. What the hell’s going on?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My stomach knots.
“You and Gabe.” His voice is careful now. “It’s more than it was, right?”
I blink. “What do you think it was?”
He shrugs. “You had a thing for him. Back in the day. I figured it fizzled out or turned into the weird friendship thing you two do.”
