(Sam's POV)
"Maybe… maybe I'll take a break tomorrow, too."
The words, spoken in Liza's soft, trembling voice, were a second confession layered on top of the first. Her invitation for me to stay the night wasn't just about her being alone. It was about her wanting to be alone with me. The hope in her eyes was a fragile, beautiful, terrifying thing. It was a flickering candle flame, and I was the storm that could either shelter it or snuff it out completely.
The silence that followed was a physical weight. My brain, which had short-circuited at her first question about a "real date," was now trying to reboot in the face of this new, infinitely more complicated proposition. Staying the night. In her empty house. Alone.
