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Maggie exhales, something between a laugh and disbelief. “Of course you are.”

Candace watches her for a second longer, assessing, then straightens. “I was just leaving.”

“You don’t have to—” Maggie starts.

“I do,” Candace says lightly. “Trust me.” She picks up her bag, then pauses beside me, low enough that Maggie can’t hear. “You look overwhelmed.”

“I am.”

She nods once. “Don’t make it worse.” Then she turns back to Maggie, all easy composure again. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Maggie says, still a little thrown.

Candace lets herself out. The door closes behind her.

Silence settles.

Maggie runs a hand through her hair. “That was… a lot.”

“Yes.”

“I walked into something,” she says. I don’t know if she’s asking for confirmation.

“We were just talking,” I say lightly.

She turns toward the door. “I’ll just⁠—”

I reach for her wrist before she can leave. Not hard. Just enough.

“Maggie.”

She stops.

“I know why you’re ignoring me,” she says. Her voice is steady, but there’s something tight under it.

“You think you do.”

She turns back. “You said something huge, Dalton. And then you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear.”

“You stopped talking to me.” There’s no accusation in her voice. I almost wish there was.

“Yes,” I say.

“That’s the same thing.”

“No,” I say quietly. “It isn’t.”

She pulls her hand free. “Then explain it.”

I watch her for a second. Then I step back, giving her space instead of taking it.

“I didn’t answer,” I say, “because if I talk to you without knowing everything, I push. And right now, pushing would make this worse.”

Her expression doesn’t soften.

“If you wanted space, you got it,” I add. “I wasn’t going to take it back just because I felt like it.”