UNDER ONE ROOF
1192 Words
Cassie’s POV
I was about five seconds away from throwing my clipboard directly at Jace’s face.
The house smelled like fresh paint and my stepdad’s expensive cologne—a combination that was already giving me a headache. It was ninety degrees outside, the movers were late, and my mother had sent me six increasingly panicked texts from across town.
And then there was Jace.
He was stretched across the bottom three steps of the grand staircase like he owned the place.
Which, technically, his dad did.
A pair of giant headphones rested around his neck. His black T-shirt was faded to gray, and his long legs were sprawled across the hardwood, completely blocking the path to the front door.
He hadn’t looked up from his phone once in the last twenty minutes.
“Jace.”
Nothing.
I stopped in front of him.
“Move your legs.”
His thumb continued scrolling.
“Jace. Seriously. I’m not playing.”
Still nothing.
I tapped the toe of his boot with my sneaker.
“The truck is going to be here any minute. Move.”
Slowly, Jace tilted his head back against the banister and looked at me.
His expression was completely blank.
“The front door is four feet wide, Cassie,” he said. “Walk around.”
I stared at him.
“I shouldn’t have to walk around you. You’re blocking the entire hallway.”
“Then trip over me.”
He went back to his phone.
I inhaled slowly.
One.
Two.
Three.
Don’t lose your temper.
My mother had spent months telling me how important this move was. New house. New family. Fresh start.
Apparently, nobody had explained that fresh starts came with a six-foot problem permanently occupying the staircase.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Jace shrugged.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know.”
I folded my arms.
“For the past six months, you’ve treated me like I’m some kind of annoying stranger.”
“You are an annoying stranger.”
My mouth fell open.
“We’ve known each other for six months.”
“Exactly.”
“You could at least pretend to care that your dad is moving us all into the same house.”
Jace finally locked his phone.
“My dad is moving us into the same house. That’s not the same thing as me volunteering for it.”
I blinked.
There it was again.
That attitude.
He had made it clear from day one that he didn’t want this arrangement. He barely spoke to my mother, rarely joined family dinners, and somehow managed to disappear whenever anyone suggested doing something together.
Meanwhile, my mother was trying desperately to make everyone happy.
“Your dad is spending thousands of dollars on this move,” I said. “The least you could do is help.”
“Did he hire me?”
“What?”
“The movers. Did they hire me?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not working for free.”
“You’re not working! You’re helping your family.”
Jace raised an eyebrow.
“Family?”
The single word stopped me.
There was something colder in his voice now.
I lowered my clipboard.
“Don’t start.”
“You started.”
“I asked you to move.”
“And somehow we’re discussing family.”
“Because you’re acting like this whole thing has nothing to do with you.”
“Maybe because it doesn’t.”
I stared at him.
He stood, finally deciding to clear the staircase.
“Your mom wants this perfect new family,” he said. “My dad wants everyone under one roof. You want everything organized down to the last box.”
He gestured toward my clipboard.
“And I just want everyone to stop pretending this is normal.”
My fingers tightened around the clipboard.
“It’s called trying.”
“No. It’s called pretending.”
That hit harder than I wanted it to.
“You know what?” I said. “You’re right.”
He looked surprised.
“This isn’t normal.”
I stepped around him.
“Because normal people don’t spend an entire afternoon sitting on a staircase while everyone else does the work.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not helping because I don’t want to.”
“Fine.”
I turned toward the front door.
“Then don’t.”
For once, Jace didn’t have a comeback.
I walked outside before he could find one.
The heat hit me immediately.
A delivery truck was finally pulling up to the driveway.
Thank God.
I hurried toward the driver, clipboard in hand.
“Sorry about the delay,” one of the movers called.
“It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
Nothing about today was fine.
Boxes started coming through the front door one after another. Kitchenware. Clothes. Books. Lamps. My mother’s carefully labeled containers.
Within minutes, the spotless hallway looked like a storage room.
I was halfway through checking off another item when my phone buzzed.
Mom: How’s everything going?
I glanced toward the staircase.
Jace was gone.
Me: Fine.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Mom: Are you sure?
I sighed.
Me: Yes. Just busy.
I wasn’t going to tell her.
Not today.
She’d worked too hard to make this happen.
She deserved one peaceful afternoon.
“Where does this go?”
I looked up to see one of the movers holding a large box.
“Second floor. My room.”
He nodded and disappeared upstairs.
I checked my list again.
For the first time all day, I felt like we were actually making progress.
Then something crashed upstairs.
I froze.
A second later, Jace shouted, “I’m fine!”
I dropped my clipboard onto the nearest table and ran upstairs.
I found him standing outside my bedroom, staring at a broken lamp on the floor.
He looked at me.
I looked at the lamp.
Then back at him.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was absolutely about to.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“It slipped.”
“Of course it did.”
“It was an accident.”
“That lamp was from my dad.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Sorry.”
I hadn’t expected that.
I crouched down and carefully picked up one of the pieces.
“Just… watch where you’re going.”
“I said sorry.”
“And I heard you.”
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then Jace pointed toward my clipboard.
“You’re going to survive without that thing for five minutes.”
I picked it up.
“I’m not taking advice from you.”
“Suit yourself.”
He walked away.
I watched him disappear down the hallway.
Then I looked around the half-unpacked house.
New walls.
New rooms.
New rules.
A new family.
And, unfortunately, Jace Montgomery.
I had no idea how we were supposed to live under the same roof.
But judging by the first day, peace wasn’t going to be part of the arrangement.
And something told me this was only the beginning.
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