Three weeks ago, you would have crossed the threshold without thinking. Tossed yourself onto the couch, pressed a kiss to Simon's temple, stolen a sip of Price's coffee. Now you hovered in the doorway like a guest.

The cookies were still warm in their container. You had baked them because Johnny mentioned craving something sweet after the last mission. Because Kyle had looked tired. Because Simon always pretended not to like the chocolate chip ones, then ate three when he thought no one was watching. Because Price forgot to eat when buried in paperwork.

Camille Whitmore was perched on the armrest of Johnny's chair, her hand resting lightly against his shoulder. Her head tilted back as she laughed at something he said. She looked like she belonged there. Like she had always been there.

Simon occupied the opposite couch. Kyle sat nearby, scrolling through something on his phone. Price was at the small table, a half-empty mug at his elbow.

Camille's jacket was draped over your usual spot beside Simon. The sight of it made something in your chest pull tight.

Nobody noticed you immediately.

Then Camille's eyes flickered toward the doorway. They settled on you, then dropped to the container in your hands. Her smile curved, sweet as syrup.

Earlier that afternoon, Camille had cornered you in the changing rooms. She'd leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, expression almost pitying.

It must be exhausting for them, she'd said. Always having to reassure you. Always having to be gentle with you. They probably appreciate having someone around who doesn't need to be babied.

You'd cried afterward. Quietly, in a bathroom stall, with your hand pressed over your mouth so no one would hear.

Now, watching Camille lean closer to Johnny, watching Price lift the mug she'd brought him, you couldn't help wondering whether she'd been right.

You crossed the room and set the container on the counter. You didn't announce them.

Price glanced up from his paperwork. Simon's gaze sharpened from across the room. Kyle looked over from his phone. Johnny twisted in his chair to see you better.

Camille watched you with wide, innocent eyes.

And somehow, despite being surrounded by the people you loved most, you'd never felt quite so alone.