Aster threw his duffel bag onto the bed, stretching like he hadn't slept in days.
Rea leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "So, you're just gonna pretend like that conversation never happened?"
Aster smirked. "Which part?"
Rea scowled. "Don't be an ass, Aster."
Aster sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, what do you want me to say, Jones? That I'm devastated? That I was secretly hoping Jaxon would beg me to stay?" He scoffed. "Not happening."
Rea frowned. "That's not what I meant."
Aster sat down on the bed, rubbing his face. "Then what do you mean?"
Rea hesitated.
She didn't know how to explain it.
How to tell him that it did matter.
That no matter how much he pretended otherwise, Jaxon's words had cut deep.
That Aster might not say he cared, but his hands were clenched into fists, his jaw was locked, and his usual cocky mask was slipping at the edges.
Rea sighed, stepping inside. "I just don't want you to—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "Never mind."
Aster tilted his head. "What?"
"Nothing."
Aster arched an eyebrow. "No way. You never drop things this fast."
Rea rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'm learning to pick my battles."
Aster smirked. "Doubt it."
Rea bit the inside of her cheek.
Because, okay—he was right.
She did want to push.
She did want to get him to talk about it.
But she also knew Aster well enough to recognize when he wasn't ready.
And right now?
He wasn't.
So she sighed, backing off. "Fine. Be emotionally unavailable. I don't care."
Aster let out a low chuckle. "You so care."
Rea turned on her heel. "Goodnight, Aster."
Aster grinned. "Night, Jones."
—
Rea couldn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying Aster's words over and over.
He said I remind him of our dad.
Something about the way he'd said it—so bitter, so resigned—made her stomach twist.
She hated Jaxon.
Hated that Aster had spent his whole life being compared to someone he didn't even remember.
But what bothered her the most?
Aster believed it.
She could see it in his eyes.
And she didn't know how to convince him otherwise.
With a frustrated sigh, she rolled onto her side, staring at the wall.
She'd talk to him tomorrow.
Even if he didn't want to.
Because she refused to let him believe he was anything less than good.
—
The next morning, Rea woke up to an empty house.
Her parents had already left for work, and Aster was nowhere to be seen.
Her stomach lurched.
She grabbed her phone, about to text him—
The front door swung open.
Aster strolled in, two paper cups in his hands.
Rea stared. "Where the hell did you go?"
Aster raised an eyebrow. "Good morning to you too."
Rea crossed her arms. "Seriously, Aster."
Aster sighed dramatically. "Relax, mom. I just went to get coffee." He held out a cup. "For you."
Rea blinked.
She hesitated, then took it. "You—got me coffee?"
Aster smirked. "Shocking, I know."
Rea eyed him suspiciously. "Okay. What did you do?"
Aster snorted. "Why do you assume I did something?"
Rea took a sip. "Because you're you."
Aster placed a hand over his heart. "That hurts, Jones."
Rea rolled her eyes but smiled.
Aster sat on the counter, taking a sip of his own coffee. "Figured I should get used to being here, you know?"
Rea raised an eyebrow. "And coffee was your first step?"
Aster shrugged. "Baby steps."
Rea shook her head, amused.
But as she watched him—coffee in hand, sitting comfortably in her kitchen, looking almost at peace—she couldn't help but think—
Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel at home.