The words hit harder than they should.
Not well.
A dozen images flicker unbidden through my head – her moving slower than usual, the way she’d paused between lifting pots, that faint, sharp scent that didn’t sit right. I shove it all down immediately.
“Sick?” I ask, carefully neutral.
“Yeah,” Kai says. “Like…properly. Finn’s been staying over, making soup, playing nursemaid. Very domestic.”
Something tightens behind my ribs.
I shouldn’t feel anything about that. Finn’s allowed to care about whoever he wants. It’s none of my business.
“Why didn’t anyone say anything?” I snap.
Koa frowns. “I assumed you knew. You have eyes, right?”
“Why would I know?”
There’s a beat of silence.
Koa tilts his head. “You’ve been avoiding her like she personally offended your ancestors.”
“That’s not—” I stop myself. Swallow. “I’ve been busy.”
“With what?” Kai asks. “Because it’s not work. You’ve been distracted as hell.”
I don’t have an answer.
That’s the problem.
I drag a hand through my hair and stand, restless energy crawling under my skin like static. “I didn’t know she was sick.”
Finn would have said something.
Wouldn’t he?
Unless—
No. I cut that thought off hard. There’s no reason Finn would keep something like that from me. He’s not secretive. Not with things that matter.
And yet.
The guilt hits anyway, heavy and unwelcome.
I remember the way I’d snapped at her over the fence. The way I’d helped with the plants without looking at her properly. The way I’d made a point of not looking again. Of not going back to finish the job.
Avoidance isn’t neutral. It leaves marks.
I turn toward the door. “I’m heading out.”
“Where?” Kai asks.
“Beach,” I say. “I need air.”
Koa watches me closely. “You alright, man?”
I pause, hand on the door.