Page 63 of Relapse

“Oh my god,” she says around a sip of coffee. “Are we fighting over custody of the mentally unstable girl already? Because I feel like we skipped several emotionally damaging steps.”

Noir ignores her completely, eyes still locked on me.

“I’m not taking chances with her safety.”

Something ugly twists low in my chest at that.

Because underneath the accusation is the truth.

He’s right.

I should’ve known she’d run the second she woke up.

Blair’s amusement slowly starts fading the longer neither of us laugh.

Her eyes flick between us once.

Twice.

Then toward the duffle bag sitting beside the couch.

And I literally watch the exact moment it clicks.

Not just Noir staying here.

Not just us hovering.

The way neither of us has mentioned taking her back to the motel.

The way I keep standing between her and the apartment door without even realizing it.

Her posture slowly straightens on the stool.

“…Wait.”

Neither me nor Noir answer immediately.

Bad move.

Blair’s eyes narrow instantly.

“I’m sorry,” she coughs out, pointing between us. “Did I accidentally join a really dysfunctional throuple hostage situation while blacked out?”

Silence.

Tiny.

But loud enough to completely change the atmosphere of the apartment.

Her expression shifts immediately after.

The sarcasm starts cracking around the edges.

“Oh my god,” she says slower now. “You’re serious.”

“You’re not going back to that motel,” I say flatly.

“The fuck I’m not.”