The house did not feel peaceful the next morning.
Alex woke early and lay still for a while, listening. The decision from the day before sat in his chest with real weight. He had chosen Troy. He had closed the door with Stolas. The middle was gone. What remained was a house, a history, and a set of conditions that only existed as long as both of them kept them.
He got up, showered, and went downstairs.
Troy was already in the kitchen. Coffee was made. He looked like he had slept about as well as Alex had. When he saw Alex he didn’t cross the room. He only nodded at the second mug waiting on the counter.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
Alex took the mug. Their fingers didn’t touch. The ordinary shape of the moment felt unfamiliar without the old undercurrent of rules and tracking. Bridget came
