**LILA’S POV**
I reach Caleb’s place later than I should have.
Late enough that the sun has already tipped past its highest point and started its slow, lazy descent, casting long bars of light through the trees like it’s in no rush to get anywhere. I park farther out than necessary and walk the rest of the way, boots crunching softly over gravel and pine needles. I don’t announce myself. I don’t call ahead. I don’t soften the moment by preparing him for it.
I’m done preparing people.
Caleb feels me before he sees me. I know that by the way the air shifts, the subtle recalibration of the space, like something clicking into place rather than snapping tight. When he steps out onto the porch, he doesn’t look surprised.
Relieved, yes.
But not surprised.
“You’re late,” he says, leaning on
