The basement laundry room was one of the few places in the house that felt truly private — tucked away behind a heavy door, lit by a single flickering bulb, with the constant rumble of the old washing machine providing perfect cover for anything that shouldn’t be overheard.
Danica had come down to move her practice gear from the washer to the dryer, but the moment she stepped inside, she knew she wasn’t alone.
Caleb was already there, leaning against the humming dryer, arms crossed over his bare chest. He must have come straight from the shower — hair still damp, wearing only gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The air smelled of detergent and warm fabric, but it was the heat rolling off him that filled the small space.
He didn’t speak at first. He simply watched her as she close
