Day 6

It was earlier than usual when Jace walked into the kitchen, old sweatpants barely dragging on the stone beneath him. The sunrise was creeping in, softly illuminating his tan skin. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with something he couldn’t quite place. Something clean, almost sterile. 

“You’re still not used to it?” Ivy asked, cutting through the silence before he even realized she was there.

Of course she was already up. 

“Nope,” he muttered, still half-asleep, trying to remember which cabinet the mugs were in. 

He moved across the room, his frame briefly casting a shadow on Ivy. He caught her eye as she looked up, and noticed that her gaze lingered on him for just a moment longer than usual. 

She handed him a small mug of coffee without a word, the steam still spiraling from the top. No lecture about “image” or today’s plans. Just coffee. He took it, thankful, but slightly thrown off.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” he said, more out of habit than real objection. 

Ivy didn’t respond right away, just started pulling things from the fridge. The quiet click of it closing punctuated the moment. “Mariela said you like your coffee strong. I made it how you like it, not how you pretend to.”

“You don’t know me that well yet.” Jace scoffed, but in that moment he wondered if she actually did.

He held it for a second without drinking. The heat of the mug was grounding in a way the rest of the house wasn’t. Like it was the first real thing he’d touched all morning. He sipped. It was exactly what he needed, warming his chest in a way that he hadn’t realized he was missing.

She looked up at him, eyes sharp as always. Except this time, there was a glint of something. “You do like it though. Right?” she asked with the slightest hint of teasing.

He stared at the steam coming off the top for a second longer, letting the silence sit. He could feel her watching him. Not pushing, simply waiting.

He didn’t respond. They both knew she was right, he didn’t have to say it.

Jace wandered out towards the patio, barefoot, mug still in hand. The doors were already unlocked. The glass panels slid open silently, like the house was too perfect to even make a sound.

Outside, the world was soft. The sky was still in that early stage of morning where it hadn’t committed to blue yet. Everything looked muted, like the sun itself was still tired. 

He stepped out slowly, blinking against the light, letting the cold ocean air hit his face. There were no sounds except the faint crash of waves below and the sharp little clicks of Ivy’s nails against her phone, somewhere behind him.

The pool reflected the sky so perfectly he had to stare at it for a second to remember it wasn’t solid. There were no ripples, no wind, just a still, blank sheet of blue.

He sat down on one of the low-slung white chairs by the edge, still holding the mug, still not fully present.

For a while, it was that. Him, the ocean, and a silence that didn’t need anything from him.

Then, he heard her footsteps. Soft, but not trying to be quiet. She wasn’t one of those people who tiptoed around him.

Ivy stepped outside with her own coffee, her white socks barely brushing the concrete as she crossed to the chair next to his. She didn’t ask if he wanted company. She just sat.

Jace didn’t look at her, but felt her presence in the same way he usually did, like a quiet pulse right under his skin. Not distracting. Just there. Always.

“I think the whole house is too quiet,” he muttered.

Ivy tilted her head. “You could play music.”

“Feels wrong to interrupt it,” he said. “Like the place has its own frequency I’m just not in tune with.”

She smiled at that. Not big. Just enough.

“I get it,” she said. “Took me a few days to stop whispering.”

Jace glanced over. “You? Whispered?”

She nodded, sipping her coffee. “First night I got here, I whispered on a phone call like the house might shush me.”

That made him laugh, a single breath out through his nose. 

It stayed silent for a while after that.

Then he asked, “Do you ever miss the noise?”

She didn’t answer right away.

He let the question hang. He wasn’t sure if he meant the noise of life before living here, or the noise of other people, or just the kind of noise that made him feel normal. He wasn’t even sure she’d been the type to know that kind of noise.

Eventually, Ivy set her mug down on the ground beside her and leaned back in the chair. Her posture relaxed for the first time all morning.

“I miss the rhythm,” she finally answered. “Silence, I can make peace with. But rhythm, it’s harder to replace.”

He turned his head to look at her. Ivy didn’t meet his eyes, just kept watching the horizon.

“What was your rhythm?” he asked.

“Train rides. Harvard Square. Studying. Background voices. My mom calling to ask if I’d eaten.” She paused. “Deadlines.”

He nodded, completely understanding what she meant.

“You’d think with all this space,” she gestured vaguely around them, “there’d be time for everything. But mostly, there’s just time.”

That landed harder than she probably meant it to.

He studied her for a moment. The sun had started to light her face more directly, warming the sharpness of her features, catching the gold of her necklace. She was like the house in a way, sharp at first glance, but built to look soft in specific moments.

He leaned back in his chair and stared up at the sky. Neither of them spoke. Minutes passed. Maybe more. He wasn’t counting.

Then Ivy said, quietly, “I’m still not sure why you hired me.”

Jace’s chest tightened slightly. The question didn’t sound accusatory, but it wasn’t neutral either. He could feel her looking at him now.

He swallowed. “Because you reached out before anyone else did.”

“That can’t be the only reason.”

He turned his head to meet her eyes. “It wasn’t.”

She waited, like she thought he might elaborate. He didn’t. She looked away first. The quiet came back, but it wasn’t the same.

He let his eyes close for a few seconds. Sun on his face. Coffee cooling in his hands.

And still, her presence.