VI.
Wilson shifted uncomfortably as he glanced at House in the front seat of his car. "Do you have to go home?"
"Why?"
"Come for coffee. Just for a bit. We can… talk. After I dump him off back at his own house." Wilson waited, hoping she'd agree.
"Just you?"
"Just me," he confirmed.
"The Little Café, twenty minutes."
"Great."
"I ordered for you" was her greeting, and she motioned to a cup of hot coffee on the table. Wilson slid in the booth across from her and offered a tentative smile.
They were silent for a moment, until finally Wilson broke the silence and asked a question he was sure might get him killed. "He really kissed you?"
Stacy looked at him. "Mmm."
Wilson shook his head. "He still loves you, Stacy."
"I know." She took another sip of her coffee. "That's why I'm leaving."
"You're leaving?"
She raised her eyebrows at him but didn't comment.
"It's going to kill him."
"He'll live."
Wilson was torn between wanting to demand how she could put House through the same thing twice and wanting to accuse her of running. He did both.
"You're running away."
"No I'm not."
"How can you put him through the same thing again, Stacy? You saw firsthand what it's done to him." Wilson's heart now ached for his friend. House may have been a jerk, but he still had a heart. And if she left, it would have been broken by the same person. Twice.
Stacy smiled sadly, and it made Wilson almost angry. "You're running," he repeated. "You're running because you don't-"
"James." Her voice stopped him, and he realized how illogical he sounded for the first time. "I'm saying goodbye tomorrow."