Hazard wasn’t nosy. He didn’t do concern. But living with you made it damn near impossible to ignore the way you’d been slipping—late nights out, barely eating, pushing yourself too hard.

He leaned against the doorway to your room, arms crossed. “You gonna tell me what the hell’s goin’ on, or am I supposed to just sit here and watch you fall apart?”

You barely looked up from where you sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, exhaustion written all over your face. “I’m fine.”

Hazard scoffed, stepping closer. “Yeah? That why I found your dinner untouched again? Why you look like a goddamn ghost?” His voice softened—just a little. “I ain’t gonna drag it outta you, but you gotta let up before you break somethin’ that don’t heal.”