Brooke laughed and started toward the stairs. “Surprised? I’m relieved. This house is worth living in.”
I looked at her. “What does that mean?”
She turned around, completely sincere. “My lease ends next month, but honestly, I’ll just move in this weekend. The upstairs bedroom with the big window is perfect for me, and Mom says the smaller room could be her sewing space.”
The silence that followed was so sharp it felt as if the house itself had stopped breathing.
“You’re not moving in,” I said.
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Jenna. You have three bedrooms and no husband, no kids, no reason to hoard all this space.”
My mother moved in with that familiar gentle tone she always used to cover a demand. “Honey, family helps family. Brooke is struggling, and your father and I could stay sometimes too, especially when your dad’s back acts up.”
I looked at my father, waiting for him to step in and correct them.
He only shrugged. “It makes sense. You’re alone anyway.”
That was the moment I realized why they had entered without asking. They did not view my house as a boundary I had created. They saw it as a resource I had selfishly failed to offer.
I placed the hardware bag on the floor and opened the front door.
“Get out,” I said.
Brooke’s smile disappeared. “Excuse me?”
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