“You still use paper towels for napkins?” Marla asked, unwrapping her taco and settling in at the small kitchen table like she owned the place.
Dani stayed quiet, dropping a roll in front of her before sitting down opposite, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her hoodie sleeves swallowed her hands.
“I don’t see anyone else offering to do laundry around here.”
Marla smirked. “You always were a firecracker.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’ve been tired for five years, babe. Try again.”
Dani looked up, expression hardening, but Marla’s eyes held hers with that same unshakable calm she'd had at her mother’s funeral. Steady. Cool. Cutting.
“I didn’t come here to fight,” Dani muttered.
“I didn’t come here to watch you rot.”
Silence settled between them for a long moment, thick and brittle.
Marla
