The next morning, sunlight slanted through the window, warming my face. I sat up groggily on the mattress and stretched.
Chase was already gone.
The room smelled like toast and laundry detergent.
I padded out into the hallway and found him in the kitchen. He was making breakfast—badly.
"Do you even know how to cook?" I asked.
"Not really," he admitted, flipping a pancake with a fork. "But you gotta admit, this looks edible."
It didn't.
Still, I sat across from him at the small kitchen table. The sun lit up the space in gold, and for a second, I could pretend I lived in a normal house with a normal boy who made bad pancakes.
He handed me a plate. I took a bite. It was terrible.
"I love it," I lied.
He grinned.
After breakfast, I tried to fold the blankets in his room. He stopped me.
"Rule number one: don't act like a guest."
"I'm not paying rent."
"Exactly. You're not a guest. You live here now."
I froze. The words echoed in my head.
You live here now.
"What about school?" I asked.
He looked up from tying his shoes. "What about it?"
"I can't just disappear."
"You won't. I'll walk you there. And back. Every day."
I raised an eyebrow. "Like a bodyguard?"
He gave me a look. "Like a brother."
I stared at him.
He added, "Unless you don't want that anymore."
I didn't answer. Instead, I grabbed my bag.
We walked to school in silence. Our footsteps synced. People stared. Especially when we walked past the group of girls who'd hurt me.
Chase didn't say a word. But his glare alone made them step aside like parting waves.
At the gate, I turned to him.
"You don't have to pick me up."
"I will."
"What if someone sees us?"
"Let them."
He reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Rule number two," he said. "You never walk alone again."
And just like that, I stepped into school feeling… not safe exactly. But less alone.
And for me, that was almost the same thing.