Brad didn’t sleep.
After leaving Amelia’s apartment, his mind had been on a loop—replaying every second of the kiss, the look on her face when Andrew walked in, the way she didn’t deny anything, didn’t fight for him, didn’t stop him from walking away.
By morning, he was hollow.
He didn't get to sleep at all.
He just couldn't get himself to.
So instead, his feet found their way to Claire’s door.
The moment she opened it, dressed in a faded T-shirt and pajama shorts, her expression shifted from sleepy confusion to surprise, then sympathy.
“Brad?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer right away—just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes rimmed with exhaustion and something heavier. Something raw.
“Can I come in?” he finally murmured.
Claire stepped aside without another word.
He wa
