The doorbell rang. She didn’t remember ordering anything in the past month, but maybe her grandpa had something shipped that needed signing. Cautiously, she got up and threw her bathrobe on, much to the displeasure of her three drowsy cats. Her feet made almost no sound on the wooden floorboards of the hallway, creeping down the stairs and peering at the door. Well, no one was trying to break it down, so that was good. She descended the final two steps and walked over to the front door, pulling it open with a soft ringing of bells.

Trace stood just on the other side of the door, dripping wet, with dark circles under his eyes. He stared silently at Vanessa, caught like he was trying to decide if he should turn tail and run. Vanessa looked back at him with no small measure of surprise, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing here.

“I thought you moved to Boston! What are you doing, what-” The words came tumbling out before she could stop herself.

Trace gave a pained smile, holding up a hand as if to stop the barrage of words. “I… Need a place to stay for a few days. Can I ask that of you?” He searched her face for any hint of resignation.

Without waiting another second, she threw the door open and dragged him inside, pulling his wet jacket off his shoulders and tossing it onto the banister. He didn’t say anything to defend himself, eyes downcast. Vanessa laid a hand on his bone-thin shoulder, feeling that his shirt was wet- his coat had been soaked through. She stared at him for just a moment before throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. He tensed, not wanting to get her wet, but gave in and let himself be held. She stepped back to look at him again, hands on his shoulders.

She was taller than him, she always had been. His brown, tanned skin was now sickly pale, and he was thin enough to make Vanessa worry. His shirt looked unwashed, and the short sleeves were hardly appropriate for the early spring chill. His face was unshaven, and he looked tired enough to fall over that very moment, if not for the guilt in his brown eyes that said he’d sooner die than inconvenience Vanessa. She just led him to the living room, sitting him down on the old, musty couch, and went to make him some breakfast.

In the cramped space of the kitchen, the smell of cooking food was nauseating to Vanessa, but she kept reminding herself that it was for him, not her. She didn’t have to eat it. She scrambled a couple eggs and slathered butter on some toast, then brought it out to him with a mug full of hot instant coffee. He hesitated, but began to shovel the food into his mouth, using the toast to convey the eggs quickly to his mouth, taking sips of coffee in between.

Vanessa sat back on the couch, mulling over the silence that lay between him while he ate. They both knew of the questions that hung in the air like a thick, heavy storm cloud, but they weren’t what was important right now. His health came first. As Vanessa lounged there, two of her cats hopped up onto the couch, one looking to be pet, the other looking to steal some of Trace’s food. Only the former was successful, pulled close to Vanessa’s chest to be held for comfort. Eventually, Trace’s plate was empty, and he sat back to quietly nurse his coffee.

“Are you sure your grandpa will be okay with me staying?” His hands were tense around the mug as he eyed her over the rim. Her grandpa wasn’t known to have a temper, but Vanessa would never do anything to displease him.

Vanessa simply gave him a reassuring smile. “As long as you stay in Tony’s room, I think he’ll be fine with it. This isn’t the first time we took someone in.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get back up.” There was a sense of dread to his tone, one that Vanessa was familiar with. She’d felt that same uncertainty about her future every time she cast her eye forward.

Vanessa fell quiet. She knew he had a point, but it was one of those sticky matters of politeness that she didn’t like to dip her fingers into. It would be nice for her to be able to say that he could stay forever, that it would never be an issue. Money didn’t work that way. Money made issues. She could only be that hopeful little girl for so long. He took the chance to sip more coffee, then look down at the couch, frowning and shifting in place.

“I feel bad about getting your couches wet.”

“Don’t be. Is that why you didn’t go to Lily instead of me? Our less expensive couches?”

“No, no… I don’t know if I could have faced them. You know they’ll be pissed at me for fucking up. They’ve always had their shit together...”

Trace frowned, rubbing at his face with one hand. Vanessa bit back the Oh, and I don’t? rearing at the tip of her tongue, looking at him for a moment. She knew what he meant, of course. Lily wasn’t the most sensitive of friends, though they tried. Vanessa sighed and scooped up the calico in her lap, Gertrude, and deposited her onto Trace instead. He smiled, giving the cat a few pets in welcome. While her grandpa owned several cats that ran amok in the house, they’d actually given most away after Vanessa’s accident. They were a major source of comfort to her, so she’d managed to convince her grandpa to keep at least a few.

“Trace, listen. We all fall down sometimes. Boston is a hard place to make it- everything there is stupidly expensive. Mass in general is stupid expensive.” As she talked, Vanessa waved one arm to her words, fingers swooping through the air like they could pluck away his worries. “Lily has a bunch of inheritance- that you got for them- and they’re living the quiet life. You chased your dream. They’re still figuring theirs out. So… It’s okay.”

Her hand fell back to her side like a bird shot out of the air. Her argument didn’t feel very strong; she didn’t have enough heart to make it convincing. She didn’t bother holding her breath while she waited for his reply; no point being too hopeful. No words could fix this, but she could at least give him a little hope. Vanessa watched him carefully as he lifted his head, looking back at her. He held her gaze before dipping his head in a nod, a little bit of that spark back in his eyes, so she allowed herself to relax a little. She got up, and he tensed again, still watching nervously as she grabbed the empty plate. She just gave him a comforting smile. She knew she didn’t have any control over it, but she still felt sorry every time his mind tricked him into thinking she’d ever hurt him.

“Go upstairs and have a hot shower to warm up. I’ll bring you something dry to wear. Then we can talk, alright?”