The knock comes after dark.
Not loud. Not urgent. Three measured taps that say whoever's on the other side expects me to answer.
I don't.
At first.
I'm sitting on the couch, phone face-down, lights low. Cassian's jacket is draped over the chair like he never really leaves anything behind. I haven't heard from Jude since the market. That silence feels intentional. Strategic.
The knock comes again.
I stand, moving slowly, deliberately. When I open the door, I'm not surprised.
It's my mother.
She steps inside without asking, gaze flicking around the room like she's cataloging evidence. Her mouth is set in that careful line she uses when she thinks she's being reasonable.
"I heard about the market," she says.
Of course she did.
"I didn't ask for a review," I reply.
She sighs. "Rowan. You're making this harder than it needs to be."
"For who?" I ask.
"For everyone," she says, then corrects herself. "For yourself."
I lean against the counter, arms crossed. "This town doesn't get to decide what's easy for me."
Her eyes sharpen. "That's not what this is about."
"Isn't it?"
She hesitates. That's new.
"People are worried," she says. "About you. About appearances. About the fact that you're… in the middle."
"There is no middle," I say quietly. "There's me."
She looks away. "Jude's family asked if you're okay."
There it is.
I feel it then. Not anger. Something colder.
"So this is a welfare check," I say. "On his behalf."
"Rowan—"
"You don't get to mediate this," I cut in. "Not for him. Not for Cassian. Not for the town."
Her voice softens. "You're going to get hurt."
I meet her gaze. "I already have. I survived."
She studies me for a long moment, then shakes her head. "You used to be easier."
I almost laugh.
"I used to be quieter," I say. "There's a difference."
After she leaves, the house feels too still.
My phone buzzes.
Cassian.
You okay?
I stare at the message longer than necessary before replying.
I am. Are you?
Three dots. Then:
I'm trying to be.
That honesty pulls at something in my chest.
A second message arrives before I can respond.
Unknown number again.
You don't get to rewrite the rules alone.
My jaw tightens.
I don't hesitate this time. I grab my jacket and keys and head out.
The boathouse lights are on when I arrive.
Cassian is there. Jude too.
Not arguing. Not speaking.
Just standing across from each other like this was inevitable.
Cassian turns first. Relief flashes across his face, quickly masked by concern. "Rowan, this isn't—"
"I know," I say. "I came because it is."
Jude watches me carefully. "You shouldn't have to deal with this alone."
"I'm not," I reply. "But I won't be managed."
Silence stretches.
Then Cassian exhales sharply. "This pressure? It's not accidental. Someone's pushing."
Jude nods once. "I've noticed."
I look between them. "Then hear me. Both of you."
They do.
"This doesn't end with me choosing one of you to make everyone else comfortable," I say. "If that's what either of you is waiting for, stop now."
Cassian's hands clench at his sides. Jude's jaw tightens.
"So what happens?" Cassian asks.
I step forward, heart steady, voice firm.
"What happens is this," I say. "I don't hide. I don't rush. And I don't step back just because someone else is uncomfortable."
I look at Cassian. Then Jude.
"If you stay, you stay knowing the cost."
The wind rattles the boathouse doors.
Jude speaks first. "I'm staying."
Cassian doesn't hesitate. "Me too."
That's when I feel it.
The shift.
The moment where restraint stops being sustainable.
Somewhere outside, footsteps crunch on gravel.
Voices.
Too close.
Too many.
Blackmere has followed.
And for the first time, I realize—
This isn't just my choice anymore.
It's a reckoning.