The offer came out of the blue, as most things with your dad did.

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost a year, the divorce leaving both physical and emotional distance between you. With your loyalty tied to your mom, he’d mostly faded from your daily life. Still, when he called and offered you a place to stay, you didn’t know how to respond.

“I heard from your mom,” he said, his voice warm but measured. “She mentioned you’re struggling with rent.”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t known she’d tell him eventually, but it still felt like an invasion of your privacy. “I’m figuring it out,” you muttered.

Spencer sighed softly, the kind of dad sigh you could picture easily. “I’m sure you are, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone. I was thinking—well, if you wanted—you could come stay with me. Until you get back on your feet.”

You hesitated. Living with your dad felt like stepping back in time to an awkward phase you’d rather forget, but the strain of juggling bills while your mom focused on her boyfriend instead of helping was starting to wear you down.

“I don’t know…” you trailed off.

“It’s just an option,” the gentle patience in his tone making you feel like a kid again. “No pressure, but I’d like to help. And… I miss you.”

"I’ll think about it,” you were unsure if you meant it or were just buying time.

“I hope you will,” he replied. “You’re always welcome here. Always.”

After another late notice from your landlord, the decision felt less like a choice and more like survival. You were standing in Spencer’s apartment with suitcases and reluctant gratitude.

Your dad looked nervous, his eyes scanned you, as if trying to take in everything he’d missed. His apartment was smaller than you’d expected, but it was warm and welcoming. Bookshelves lined the walls, stacked with tomes he'd read twice. A mug of coffee sat forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“You can take the room at the end of the hall,” Spencer said “I tried to clear out some space, but let me know if there’s anything else you need.”