Emily didn't go home.
She couldn't.
She needed air. She needed noise. She needed to be somewhere her thoughts weren't echoing around her like footsteps in an empty hall.
So she went to Chloe's.
The moment she texted "Are you home?", Chloe replied in all caps: DO NOT MOVE. UNLOCK THE DOOR. I'M BRINGING TEA AND QUESTIONS.
Fifteen minutes later, Emily was curled on the oversized gray couch in Chloe's living room, tucked under a throw blanket, warm tea in one hand, judgment-free zone officially activated.
Chloe slid in beside her with a smug look and an entire bowl of popcorn. "So. You spent the night at Broody's mansion."
Emily sighed. "Don't call him that."
"I will absolutely call him that until you admit you want to climb him like a tree."
Emily groaned. "Chloe."
"I'm sorry. I'm supportive. Respectful. I'm listening." She popped a handful of popcorn and leaned in like a talk show host. "Now tell me everything. From the part where he opened the door shirtless to the part where you seduced him with your unbrushed hair and oversized college T-shirt."
"I didn't seduce anyone."
"Oh honey. You didn't have to."
Emily looked down at her tea. "We worked all day. It was honestly productive. Then the storm hit, and he said I should stay. I had clothes with me already, so…"
Chloe waggled her eyebrows. "How convenient."
"I took the guest room."
"And he took the what—throne?"
Emily tried to glare, but her lips twitched. "Stop."
"Fine, fine. Let's fast forward to the good part."
Emily hesitated.
Chloe noticed. "There is a good part."
"There was… a moment."
"Tell me."
"It was late. I couldn't sleep. I went to get water. He was already there."
Chloe leaned forward. "Did you touch?"
Emily stared into her mug. "I—ran into him. Literally."
Chloe let out a dramatic gasp and clutched her own chest. "Skin-to-skin contact?"
"He wasn't wearing a shirt," Emily muttered, cheeks flushing.
"Oh my god. I'm not breathing."
"And I wasn't wearing a bra."
Chloe dropped the popcorn bowl.
Emily covered her face with her hands. "It was dark. It was late. And I was very aware of… everything."
"What did he do?"
"He steadied me. That's all."
Chloe narrowed her eyes. "But did you feel anything?"
Emily paused. "Yes."
That one word hung in the air between them.
"Do you think he did?" Chloe asked more softly.
"I don't know. He didn't say anything. I ran off like an idiot." Emily smiled wryly. "He left a note in the morning. Polite. Professional."
"But you felt something shift," Chloe said.
Emily nodded. "It wasn't what happened. It was what didn't happen. What almost did."
Chloe reached over and gently took her hand. "You like him."
Emily bit her lip. "I think I'm past liking."
"Are you scared?"
Emily looked up at her best friend. "Terrified."
Chloe didn't tease her after that. She just squeezed her hand again and said, "Don't let that stop you."
---
After a couple of hours, Emily made her way to the hospital.
The familiar scent of antiseptic and soft beeping monitors filled the hallway as she stepped into her grandmother's room.
Irene was sitting up in bed with her reading glasses on, flipping through a crossword puzzle. She looked up with a knowing smile the moment Emily walked in.
"Well, well," she said. "Look who the storm blew in."
Emily grinned. "Hi, Grandma."
"You didn't call last night."
"I stayed at… a colleague's."
Irene arched an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Tall. Dark. Glares for a living?"
Emily laughed. "He's not that dramatic."
"But you stayed at his place."
"It was late. And raining. We worked all day, and it made sense to crash in the guest room."
"I assume 'crash' doesn't mean in his room?"
Emily flushed. "No. Guest room."
"But something happened."
Emily hesitated.
Irene lowered her crossword. "Sweetheart. I'm old, not blind."
Emily sat in the chair beside her. "Nothing technically happened."
"But emotionally…?"
Emily nodded. "It felt like a door opened. Just a crack. And now I don't know if I want to walk through it or close it before anything changes."
Her grandmother studied her. "You've always been brave. But you've also been careful. Too careful, sometimes."
"This is different."
"Of course it is. Because this could hurt you. But the things that matter always can."
Emily swallowed. "It's not just him. It's me. I've built this life where I carry everything — the bills, your care, my pride — and I don't know if I can hand any of it over."
"You don't have to hand it over," Irene said gently. "You just have to let someone stand beside you while you carry it."
Emily looked down at her hands. "What if it all goes wrong?"
Her grandmother smiled. "Then at least you'll know you were living, not just surviving."
Emily exhaled, feeling the weight of her own walls — and the small, impossible hope that maybe it was okay to lower them, just a little.