35. Drew
DREW
It’s move-in day.
I should be excited to finally move into my own place.
I am.
Except...
I’m standing outside my brother’s house, staring at the rental truck and realizing one very important thing: it’s too small.
I stare at everything I apparently own, wondering how it multiplied overnight out of spite.
Boxes.
More boxes.
“How do you even have this much stuff?” Sebastian asks from beside me, his tone flat, judgment baked in.
“I don’t know,” I say automatically. “This is… excessive.”
Ivy snorts behind us.
“Oh no, this is minimalist, Drew. You should see what I tried to sneak into Sebastian’s place when I moved in.”
Sebastian doesn’t even look at her. “You brought a mannequin.”
“It was for aesthetic.”
“It had a name.”
Ivy lifts her chin. “Gerald had personality.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I’m glad I don’t remember that.” I glance at my brother. “I just remember you moving her in.”
“Yeah… I spared you some of the details.”
Ivy shrugs. “He took me home. Told me to get more of my stuff. That was my stuff.”
I sigh.
I’ll miss them.
The conversations?
Debatable.
“Where did you even keep all this?” Sebastian asks.
“The basement,” Ivy and I say in unison.
I turn back toward the house and try to focus on literally anything else.
Time to start fresh.
The place is quiet. Clean. Empty in that strange way that doesn't quite feel like home yet.
Like it hasn’t decided if it wants me here yet.
“Alright,” I say, clapping my hands once. “Let’s just start with the boxes. Movers should be here soon—”
A car door slams.
I freeze.
Ivy perks up immediately like a feral animal sensing entertainment.
“Oh,” she says, grinning. “Company.”
I turn.
And there she is.
Violet Quinn stands beside her Porsche like she belongs here.
Her gaze locks onto mine instantly, a soft smile already in place. She waves, sunglasses perched on her head.
She turns slightly, and I spot Luna’s cat carrier hanging from her arm.
“Hey!” she calls. “We beat the furniture guys!”
I blink.
“We?”
“Yes. Luna and me.”
Ivy gasps.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, grabbing my arm. “She brought Luna. You didn’t tell me they were coming over.”
“I didn’t invite them.”
“You don’t have to,” Ivy says cheerfully. “They found you anyway.”
That’s not reassuring.
Sebastian exhales slowly beside me. “This is how it begins, Drew.”
“She’s not stalking me,” I say too quickly.
Sebastian snorts. “You sure about that?”
Violet is already walking toward us like she’s done this a hundred times. Like she knows exactly how this is going to play out.
“Hi,” she says when she reaches me, her voice soft and warm. “Move-in day. How exciting.”
My stomach tightens.
“Yeah, um… how did you know?”
“Ivy mentioned it,” she says smoothly.
I glance at Ivy.
She beams.
“I might have casually dropped it into conversation when I ran into Violet at the coffee shop,” she says. “You know. Like a normal person.”
“You are not—”
“Oh! I brought coffee.”
Ivy takes the Luna from Violet, murmuring over the cat.
Violet heads to her car, then returns with a cardboard drink carrier.
She holds it out like a peace offering.
I stare at it. “Why?”
“Because moving is miserable,” Violet says simply. “And you need help.” She gestures to the moving truck I rented.
Ivy snatches a coffee. “I may have mentioned what Sebastian and I drink.” She hands his over, then nods toward Violet. “She already knows what you drink, Drew.”
Of course she does.
Violet holds my drink out to me.
I take a sip.
Yup. It’s my drink.
Hot, bitter, and thick like sludge. Or that’s what my brother said when he tried my coffee.
I drag in a slow breath, trying to get a grip on this situation before it spirals completely out of control.
“Thank you,” I say carefully. “You didn’t have to come—”
“I wanted to,” Violet says softly. There’s no hesitation in her voice.
My chest tightens. I ignore it.
“Right,” I say. “Well. Thanks. That’s—”
Helpful?
Suspicious?
Probably both.
She gives me a look I haven’t seen from her before.
I glance at Ivy.
Maybe I have seen that look before.
Ivy looks at Sebastian like that.
“It’s uh—appreciated,” I finish.
Her smile deepens just slightly. “I’m glad.”
Ivy elbows me.
“He’s flustered,” she stage-whispers.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she says, delighted. “Look at your face.”
“Ivy,” Sebastian says.
“Right. Work mode.” She claps her hands. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get this man settled before he has an existential crisis in the driveway.”
Too late. I’m already there.
“You picked a good place,” Violet says, glancing toward the house. “It looks really nice cleaned up.” Something flickers in her eyes. “I think you’re going to be very happy here.”
I stare at her.
There’s something about the way she says that.
Before I can respond, a loud truck engine rumbles down the road. The movers.
Saved by logistics.
“Perfect timing,” Ivy says, already marching toward the street like she’s in charge of the entire operation.
“Let’s go, people! We have chaos to create!”
Sebastian sighs and follows her.
That leaves Violet and me alone.
For a beat, it’s quiet.
She steps a little closer. “I’m really glad you got your own place.”
My pulse kicks up. “That makes one of us,” I mutter.
Her lips curve. “It’s a good decision. You’ll see.”
And the way she says it, it doesn’t sound like reassurance.
It sounds like a promise.