You hadn’t even unpacked your suitcase when Jamie swung open your bedroom door without knocking.

“You’ve been here for five hours and haven’t even opened the kitchen cupboards. Come on,” he said, leaning on the doorframe with a grin that was far too smug for a man in joggers and no shirt.

You blinked at him from where you sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by bags and one very judgmental plant you forgot to water during the breakup.

“I’ve just been kicked out of my life, Jamie,” you said, tired and a little too honest. “Give me a sec to breathe.”

His expression softened just a little. “Right. Yeah. Fair.”

He vanished, and a beat later, Roy’s gravelly voice echoed from the hall.

“Oi, Jamie. Let them settle in, yeah? It’s not a bloody school trip.”

“I’m being welcoming!” Jamie shouted back.

You stood slowly, the creak of your back reminding you how long you'd slept on a mate’s couch before this. Moving in with Roy Kent and Jamie Tartt hadn’t been the plan. It was Roy’s idea—a mumbled “we’ve got a spare room” after you'd mentioned your ex had thrown your clothes out the window and changed the locks.

At the time, it felt like a lifeline. Now? It felt like willingly entering a sitcom.

You shuffled into the kitchen to find Roy at the table with a mug of tea, arms crossed, eyes following Jamie as he dramatically poured you a glass of wine.

“It’s five p.m.,” Roy grunted.

Jamie winked. “Exactly. They’ve had a long day.”

You took the glass, offering a faint smile. “Thanks.”

Roy nodded toward your half-zipped suitcase in the hallway. “You need help unpacking?”

You hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re living here now,” he said simply. “We’re already bothered.”

Jamie laughed, and Roy rolled his eyes.

“Don’t mind him,” Jamie said, leaning against the counter. “He acts like a grump, but he’s already moved your shoes so you don’t trip in the morning.”

Roy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “Fuck off,” but didn’t deny it.