Celine set her fork down. The plate was nearly empty, though she hadn't really been aware of finishing it. Her body was fed. Her mind was still catching up.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and glanced toward the hallway.
"Where's your bathroom?"
August nodded. "Second door on the left."
"Thanks."
She stood and walked off, steady, but still carrying that quiet stiffness from the night before.
August's voice came after her, calm. "And Celine."
She paused slightly, turning her head.
He had already moved toward the hallway closet, opening it briefly.
"You can't stay in that," he said simply, pulling out a folded hoodie and a pair of plain joggers. "These should fit better than the night gown."
She looked at the clothes for a second, then back at him.
A small pause.
Then, "You keep emergency outfits for guests now?"
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "Only the ones who almost jumped in front of a moving car."
That earned the smallest flicker of amusement from her.
"Convenient habit."
"Apparently," he said.
She took the clothes and continued down the hallway.
In the bathroom, she locked the door behind her.
For a moment, she just stood there. Quiet.
Then she exhaled slowly, straightening.
She didn't linger.
Celine didn't do lingering.
She changed quickly into August's clothes.
The hoodie was oversized, the joggers simple. Not too much, nothing worth overthinking.
She glanced at herself once in the mirror.
"Ridiculous situation," she muttered under her breath, adjusting the sleeves.
Then she left.
When she came back out, August was in the kitchen again, moving with ease.
He looked up. "Coffee's ready."
"I can see that," she replied, taking her seat again.
He brought a mug over and placed it in front of her without fuss.
Then he said, casually, "You walked barefoot last night."
Celine took a sip. "I didn't exactly have options."
"Yeah," he said simply.
Then he added, "Sit a second."
She looked at him. "Why?"
He held up a small tube. "Ointment."
Her eyes dropped to it. "For what?"
"Your feet," he said. "You ran on them half the night. Better to treat them now than regret it later."
That made her pause, not because she was worried, but because it was unnecessary care for something she considered already over.
"I'm fine," she said flatly.
August didn't argue. He just nodded once. "You'll still be fine with it."
A pause. Then she stood anyway and placed one foot on the stool.
"Don't make it a thing," she said.
"Wasn't planning to," he replied.
He applied the ointment with steady hands, quick, no sentiment attached to it. Celine looked away almost immediately.
"You always do this?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Help people you barely know."
His answer came simple. "No."
A beat.
"Just the ones who almost jumped in front of a moving car."
That got a faint exhale from her, not laughter exactly, but close.
She didn't comment further.
When he finished, he stepped back.
"Done."
"Good," she said, pulling her foot back. "Thanks."
"Anytime."
"You say that too easily."
"It's not complicated."
That earned a brief, almost dismissive look from her as she picked up her coffee again.
Nolan, in her mind, was already losing weight. Loud, reckless, overplaying his hand.
People like that made mistakes.
And mistakes got corrected.
She glanced toward August.
"I need your phone."
He didn't question it. Just pulled it out and handed it over.
She took it, unlocked it, and typed Stacy's number from memory.
One ring.
Two.
Stacy picked up instantly.
"Hello?"
Celine swallowed. "Stace… it's me."
There was a sharp pause.
"Celine?! Oh my God, where are you? Are you okay? Someone trashed your house—"
"Slow down, Stace," Celine cut in quickly, steadying her voice. "I'm fine. I'll explain everything. I just need you to bring me a change of clothes."
"Where are you?"
Celine hesitated. Her eyes flicked to August.
He was already listening, leaning lightly against the kitchen counter.
She covered the phone slightly and mouthed, I don't know the address.
August understood immediately.
He stepped closer, voice calm. "Give me the phone."
She handed it to him.
He spoke into it directly. "Westbridge Heights. Building 7, apartment 18."
Stacy paused. "Okay."
Then, sharper again, "Is she safe?"
August glanced at Celine briefly. "Yes."
"I'll be there in twenty," Stacy said immediately. "Watch her for me."
"Ok" August said simply.
He ended the call.
"I hope you don't mind," Celine said, "but my assistant will be here soon."
He nodded once. "Your assistant."
"Yeah." She ran a hand through her messy red hair. "She's probably halfway to calling the police or burning the city down looking for me."
August chuckled softly. "She sounds like a good one."
Celine gave a tired smile. "She is."
There was a brief silence between them, heavy, but not uncomfortable.
August leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching her.
"I know it's none of my business," he said finally, "but whatever happened last night… it wasn't small. You should go to the police."
Celine didn't look at him immediately.
"And say what?" she replied flatly. "I'm sure whatever evidence there was, those men would've already removed it."
" Now what?"
She set her cup down.
A pause.
Then, more controlled this time, "Now I'm standing in your shirt, in a stranger's home, after dragging your night into hell. So maybe not."
August shook his head slightly.
"Give yourself some credit, Celine. You escaped. Not many people could've pulled that off."
Before Celine could respond, a sharp knock came at the door.
August straightened. "Probably your assistant."
He moved to open it.
Stacy didn't wait for an invitation.
The moment the door opened, she pushed past him, eyes already scanning the room.
"Celine."
She crossed straight to her and pulled her into a tight hug.
"You scared me."
Celine patted her back lightly. "I'm sorry."
Stacy pulled back immediately, gripping her shoulders and checking her over. "What the hell happened?"
Celine's gaze dropped slightly.
"Nolan happened."
Stacy froze.
Her expression shifted instantly to something cold.
"You mean that guy from the lobby?"
"Yeah," Celine said. "He sent people. They broke into my place. He wants my property."
Stacy frowned. "How did you escape?"
"I got away," Celine said simply. Then she added, "August."
She glanced toward him.
"He almost ran me over."
August raised a brow from where he stood nearby. "You jumped in front of my car."
Stacy turned sharply to him, her eyes narrowing.
"You're the one I spoke with on the phone."
"Yeah," he said. "Didn't really get a chance to introduce myself."
He stepped forward slightly and extended a hand.
"August Creed."
Stacy shook it firmly. "Stacy. Thanks for helping my friend."
Her tone softened just a little. "Not many would've done that."
August nodded once. "We're human."
Then he stepped away toward the kitchen, giving them space.
Stacy immediately turned back to Celine.
"We're going to the police. We're putting that prick behind bars."
Celine shook her head once. "Stace… Nolan doesn't scare me."
"But Celine—"
"I just need time," she cut in quietly.
A beat.
Stacy exhaled, but didn't push further yet. A few minutes later, August returned with two mugs of steaming tea and a small plate of buttery biscuits.
He set them down gently.
"Figured you could use something warm," he said, "and sugar."
Stacy looked up. "Thanks. You didn't have to."
He shrugged. "Habit."
She took a bite of a biscuit, then paused.
"Okay. This is good."
"Chef's hands," he said dryly.
Stacy narrowed her eyes slightly, thinking now.
Then it clicked.
"Wait…" she looked between them. "You're that chef. The one in West Bay. The place with a waitlist longer than Celine's emails."
August gave a small chuckle as he sat down. "In flesh."
Stacy leaned back slightly, looking at Celine with raised brows.
"Girl. You didn't say the man who saved you also owns taste buds heaven."
Celine gave a faint, tired smile. "Didn't think it mattered."
August met her gaze across the room. "It kind of does now."
Stacy leaned back slowly, sipping her coffee again, watching the quiet exchange between Celine and August like she'd just walked into a season finale cliffhanger.
"Right," she said, drawing out the word. "Well… this just got interesting."
Celine shot her a look. "Stace, breathe."
But Stacy only raised both hands. "I'm just saying. The chef-slash-savior is hot, makes coffee like this, and clearly gives a damn. If this were a rom-com—"
August cleared his throat lightly, lips twitching. "Should I step out again?"
Stacy grinned. "No need. I'm rooting for you now."
Celine shook her head, tired but amused. "Please don't start shipping me in my own trauma."
Stacy sipped her coffee with mock seriousness. "Every woman says that… until it is."
Celine leaned back slightly, glancing between them. "Good to know my near-death experience is now entertainment."
Stacy pointed at her like she'd made a valid point. "See? That attitude. That's why you survived."
Celine exhaled through her nose. "Or maybe I just didn't feel like dying today."
August let out a quiet breath of a laugh at that.
Celine turned to him, tone softening just slightly. "Thank you," she said. "For everything. I don't know what I would've done last night."
August held her gaze. "You don't need to thank me. Just… next time, don't wait until it gets that bad."
She tilted her head. "Noted. Next time I'll schedule the chaos earlier in the day."
That earned a real smile from him this time.
"I didn't think it would happen," she added, more honestly.
He nodded once. "You're safe now. That's what matters."
A pause.
Not heavy this time, just real.
Celine looked down at her mug, then back up at him. "Try not to get used to playing hero. It doesn't suit your ego."
Stacy choked slightly on her coffee. "Oh my God."
August's smile deepened. "Duly noted."