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She smiles at me. “I can handle soup, Carter.”

I close my eyes. I don’t have the energy to argue. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

***

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I wake to Brooklyn’s voice in the kitchen. It’s dark outside. I can’t believe she’s still here.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Brooklyn says. “Drew, you know that’s not true.”

Who is Drew? None of my business. But who is Drew? I strain to hear.

“Dinner on Friday, okay?” Brooklyn giggles. “Yes, I will make you pancakes on Saturday.”

I guess that answers a few things about Drew.

“I’ll call you tomorrow when I get home.”

I hear Brooklyn’s footsteps approaching and force myself to sit up.

“Oh, no. Did I wake you?” she asks.

“No. I’m sorry if I ruined your plans.” I probably shouldn’t have said that. I’m not sure why I said it.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Brooklyn assures me. “It’s just a dinner date.”

I nod. Clearly, it is more than just a dinner date. I have no right to feel jealous. At all. It doesn’t stop Brooklyn’s call from landing like a gut punch. “I can’t believe you’re still here. You could’ve woken me, you know?”

“I know. I didn’t want to wake you. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. What time is it?”

“It’s six.”

“Six? Jesus. I can’t believe I slept that much.”

“You needed it.”

“I guess so. I feel awful, though. You wasted a day here.”

“No, I didn’t. I worked on my resume while you slept. It’s a long overdue necessity.”

I guess that’s something. “Brooklyn, if you want to leave—”

“Actually—I don’t make a habit of inviting myself, but I was hoping you might let me crash here. Again.”

“You don’t need to ask. You should know that.”

“I’d feel better if I stayed.”

“I’m okay. “

“Yeah, I know you’re okay. Humor me.”

I nod again.