Before she could ask what the hell was going on, Colton showed up.
“Kinsey’s been diagnosed with cancer,” he said solemnly. “Late stage.”
“All she wants is to spend whatever time she has left living peacefully with me. Your room gets the best sunlight. It’ll be better for her condition. You’ll need to move out for now.”
Kenzie looked at Kinsey.
Pink cheeks, clear skin, bright eyes. She looked healthier than Kenzie did.
Late-stage cancer? Sure. Only a dumbass like Colton would buy that shit.
When Kenzie didn’t agree fast enough, Colton assumed she was about to make a scene. He was already gearing up to lecture her.
Instead, she cut him off.
“Fine. I’ll move. Put my stuff in the downstairs guest room.”
It’d be easier to leave that way anyway.
Her lack of drama threw him off.
For years, every time Kinsey was involved, Kenzie had been “the problem,” “too sensitive,” “too much.”
Now, she didn’t fight back, and somehow, something felt… off.
Kenzie walked right past them, packed her things neatly, and moved everything downstairs.
Colton couldn’t explain it, but watching her leave made his chest feel strangely tight.