The next morning, Greysen showed up at the apartment with groceries and determination.
"I'm not leaving until you eat something," they announced, pushing past James into the kitchen. "You've lost like ten pounds in the past month, and now with your parents—no. Absolutely not. We're having a proper meal."
Novalee sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching Greysen move through her kitchen like they owned it. They were wearing their usual eclectic style—vintage band t-shirt, ripped jeans, multiple rings, eyeliner sharp enough to cut. Their short dark hair was styled up today, and they had a new piercing in their eyebrow.
Normal. Greysen was so beautifully, perfectly normal.
And Dante was going to kill them if Novalee didn't comply.
"Nova, babe, you're staring," Greysen said, cracki
