Page 9 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

Avery was quiet, her lips pursed as she thought. In the other room, Steve barked in protest at something. Max raised his head, tilting it to the side, then lowered it again, unbothered.

“You know your problem?” Avery said.

“I have several. Please narrow it down by category.”

“You keep acting like the only respectable version of wanting this is if you grind yourself into powder first.”

I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it, because what she said was uncomfortably close to the truth.

She sighed. “Quinn, you’re allowed to want a life that’s easier than the one your parents had. I’m sure they won’t see you wanting an easier life as a betrayal. You don’t have to work yourself into burnout to get it.”

That landed somewhere deep and sore. I took another bite because answering too quickly would have told her how badly I needed to hear it.

“I know that,” I finally said.

Avery’s expression said she loved me and thought I was full of it in roughly equal measure. “Do you?”

“I do in theory.”

“And in practice, you’re out here unclogging the partners’ toilets like it’s a challenge on America’s Next Top Attorney.”

“That is an excellent title, and I resent you for coming up with it first.”

She grinned then, so suddenly it was impossible not to love. “Thank you.”

I looked down into my bowl again so she wouldn’t see the stupid, stinging gratitude in my eyes.

That was another thing she did. Cut straight through the part of me that wanted to dress up every hurt as a joke and stand back like I’d solved it.

Max rose and leaned his head on my knee, as if he knew I needed the extra comfort.

I smiled down at him and scratched behind his left ear, the better one.

“There he is,” Avery said softly. “Your union rep just clocked in.”

“He senses weakness.”

“He senses blood sugar.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Max looked up at me with grave, dark eyes. There was something about the weight of his head on my leg that always made it harder to lie, even by omission. Maybe because he never expected me to be impressive, just present.

I slid my fingers over the smooth plane of his skull and let myself breathe. Avery let the silence stay just long enough to count as kindness, then rose and took our bowls to the sink.

“Eat the bread,” she said over her shoulder.

“I’m going to.”

Max shifted closer, settling his weight more fully against me now that dinner had been eaten. Outside, the light was draining off the windows. Inside, the house hummed with dog breath and the quiet competence of a life Avery had built on purpose.

My workday still clung to me in patches, but it no longer felt like the only thing in the world. That was what Avery’s home did. It reminded my nervous system that not every room I entered required proof of usefulness.

Avery dried her hands on a dish towel after rinsing the dishes.

“So,” she said. “Tell me exactly who called you Jacobson, and let’s decide together whether we should show mercy to his car.”

I laughed, for real this time, and Max thumped his tail against the chair leg in approval.