Violet’s POV
My last evening in Adison’s apartment feels like borrowed time I don't want to return.
Elijah is warm and heavy in my arms, his tiny fingers curled around the collar of my shirt like he knows I'm leaving. The city glitters beyond Adison's windows, and I memorize the weight of my godson while pretending I'm not counting the hours until my leaving.
"He likes you." Adison settles onto the couch beside me, tucking her legs beneath her. "He doesn't grab everyone like that."
"He has good taste." I brush my lips against his forehead, breathing in that impossible baby smell—powder and warmth and something purely him. "Gets it from his mother."
She laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest. Dinner was simple—takeout containers scattered across the coffee table—and the conversation flowed with the easy rhythm of family that chose each other rather than inherited obligation.
"So." Adison reaches for her cup of tea, her eyes sharp despite the casual tone. "Tell me about university. The real version, not the polished one you give everyone else."
The request catches me off guard. I shift Elijah higher on my shoulder, buying time.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything." She takes a sip, watching me over the rim. "Classes. Friends. Whether you're actually happy or just performing happiness because that's what everyone expects."
The honesty of the question deserves honesty in return. I take a breath.
"The classes challenge me." I trace circles on Elijah's back, feeling his warmth through his onesie. "Actually challenge me, in ways that matter. The professors see my mind instead of my family name. They don't care that I'm a Snyder."
"That must feel strange." Addison giggles.
"It feels like freedom." The admission surprises me with its force. "Being anonymous in lecture halls where nobody knows the legacy I'm supposed to carry. Nobody expects me to be anything except a student who shows up and does the work."
Adison nods slowly, and I see her filing that information away. She's always been good at listening—really listening, not just waiting for her turn to speak.
"And outside of class?" She sets her wine down, leaning closer. "Have you found your people yet?"
"There's Gemma." I smile despite myself. "My roommate. She became my closest friend through proximity and shared sarcasm. We bonded over terrible dining hall coffee and mutual disdain for morning classes."
"Proximity and sarcasm." Adison grins. "Sounds like a solid foundation."
"It is." I adjust Elijah as he squirms, his fussing building toward something louder. "And I'm navigating the sorority world with more skill than I expected. Turns out all those years of Manhattan social training actually prepared me for something useful."
Jake appears from the hallway, moving toward us with purpose. He reaches for Elijah with hands that know exactly what they're doing.
"Someone's hungry." He lifts my godson from my arms, and the absence of that warm weight hits harder than it should. "I'll handle this."
"You sure?" Adison starts to rise.
"Stay." Jake presses a kiss to her forehead, so casual and certain. "You two are talking. I've got him."
He disappears toward the nursery, Elijah already quieting against his chest, and I watch him go with something complicated twisting in my ribs. The natural competence of a man who has learned that crying usually means hunger or discomfort or both. A man who chose this life even when it meant leaving behind everything familiar.
The silence he leaves behind shifts into something different.
Adison leans closer, and I recognize the conspiratorial expression that means girl talk is imminent.
"Now that we're alone." Her voice drops. "Tell me about the boys."
"Boys?" I keep my face neutral, but my defenses rise automatically.
"Plural." She tilts her head, eyes knowing. "Deliberate. You're twenty at a university full of options. There have to be boys."
I could deflect. Could offer the polished non-answer I've perfected over years of dodging questions I didn't want to face. But Adison has earned something better than deflection.
I lower my walls consciously, brick by brick.
"There's someone at university." The words come out quieter than I intended. "Someone uncomplicated."
Adison doesn't react.
"He wants me openly." I stare at my hands, remembering Marvin's smile across the quad. "Publicly. In ways that feel both flattering and terrifying."
"Terrifying how?"
"Because I'm not used to being wanted without conditions." I look up, meeting her eyes. "Without someone needing me to be something specific first. He just... wants me. The version I am when I'm not performing for anyone."
Adison's expression softens into something that looks like recognition.
"And how do you feel about him?"
"I don't know." The honesty scrapes against my throat. "He's warm. Easy. Being with him doesn't feel like navigating a minefield."
"Unlike someone else we both know."
I don't answer. Don't have to.
"Violet." Adison reaches for my hand, squeezing once. "You're allowed to want something uncomplicated. You're allowed to choose ease over intensity."
"Am I?" The question holds the kind of weight, I didn't mean to give it.
"Yes." Her grip tightens. "You don't owe anyone your heart. Not even if the wanting feels like it might kill you. Not even if walking away feels like amputation."
The words land somewhere deep, settling into spaces I've been trying to fill with logic and distance and the careful architecture of a life that doesn't include Zachary. Spaces that refuse to stay filled no matter how hard I try.
"This is what it feels like." I hear myself say it before I've decided to speak. "Sisterhood. Real sisterhood."
Adison's eyes go bright. "What do you mean?"
"Not blood obligation." I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through hers. "Chosen intimacy. The kind of honesty that exists because someone earned the right to hear it."
She doesn't answer with words. Just pulls me into a hug that says everything language can't hold.
And for one perfect moment, borrowed time stops feeling borrowed.
It just feels like home.