I shake my head. “It’s nearly nine.”
“Is it really?” She glances at the corner of her laptop. “I don’t know where the last two hours have gone.”
“What are you working on?”
“Water conservation.”
I set my bag down and sit in the chair across from her. “Water conservation? For a class?”
She shakes her head. “Scientists have been talking about water issues for years—my entire life—but I heard a news story on my way home this afternoon that was talking about how dire the situation is, specifically in the Southwest, and so I came home and was reading about it and sent off some things to Lanie, Geoff, and my parents about what we might be able to do or change.”
“What did they say?”
She closes her laptop. “Lanie hates change. She’s worried about costs and bottom lines, and my mom’s worried about losing clout as a luxury builder. Geoff’s focused on the statistics because farmers use most of the water between feeding cattle and growing crops, so he doesn’t think it’s our problem to fix, but it seems like one of those issues where if everyone doesn’t help, it’s going to be too late.” She drums her fingers over the top of her laptop.
“Have you ever considered doing something besides going to work for your family?”
Hadley leans back, she doesn’t look offended, not even caught off guard. “Not really.”
“But you hate public speaking.”
“That’s only a small piece.”
“What about cooking?”
She lowers her brow with confusion. “What about cooking?”
“You love cooking. You love looking up recipes and reading through a hundred comments.”
“Sure, but I also love the idea of working with my family.”
“Loving the idea of something is different than actually loving something.”
She tilts her head, examining me. “Did something happen at practice or in class today?”
“You love trying new things, new experiences. I just don’t understand why you’re limiting yourself to one future.”
“I’m not limiting myself.” Defiance laces her words. “Where is this coming from?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fight with you.”
“It doesn’t have to be a fight,” she says. “Arguments and disagreements are healthy and bound to happen. It’s avoiding them that’s not.”
“So you want to fight?”
She lowers her chin, a silent warning flashing in her eyes. “That’s not what I said.”
I pull in a breath, knowing that’s not what she said, not even what she insinuated. Still, the need to fight has followed me home. I fight every sarcastic retort, each shelling that could lead to our first fight because she’s not the one I’m mad at.
“Can we just go to bed?”
Hadley looks at me, a level of uncertainty and doubt in her gaze that I haven’t seen since we met. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”
“I just need some sleep.”
She nods, though she doesn’t appear at all convinced.
We get ready for bed separately, me in the basement where I consider staying and her upstairs.