17. Sloane #3
Theo’s breathing begins to slow against Callie’s shoulder. Once the tension leaves his fingers, Idris comes around the couch and touches his ankle through the blanket. “That was well done.”
Theo peeks at him.
“You told us yellow,” Idris says. “We stopped. That is the system working.”
Theo’s eyes fill again, and he hides his face against Callie’s cardigan.
Callie looks at me over his head, wrecked and beautiful and trying to hold still for him.
I reach across Theo’s legs and take her free hand, bringing her knuckles to my mouth.
I kiss her there because she needs it and because I need to remind myself that she's still right here, part of this, the whole point of this.
Garrett stands after a while and stretches one hand toward the coffee table. “Movie?”
Theo lifts his head.
Sloane Rivera, known threat to household peace, doesn't make a single comment about Garrett using a movie as a therapeutic intervention. I want credit for that too.
Callie clears her throat. “Something calm?”
“No documentaries about maritime disasters,” Idris says.
“That was one time,” Garrett replies.
“You called it soothing,” Callie says, her voice coming back in pieces.
“It had narration.”
“It had shipwrecks,” I say.
Theo looks between us, and the faint smile returns.
We move to the living room because the couch is bigger and the television doesn't require Garrett to explain why his laptop needs three adapters and a formal invitation from the gods.
The shift should be simple. It is only one room over, only a movie, only a few blankets and mugs and the low domestic shuffle of people who are trying to make the night small again.
Theo stalls in the doorway.
I see the problem at once.
Too many places.
Too many choices slow him at the threshold. Theo stands there with his hands tucked into the sleeves of Callie’s sweater, eyes moving from one place to another until the choosing itself becomes too heavy.
Callie starts to stand.
Garrett lifts his hand first, palm open from the far end of the sectional. “Theo.”
Theo’s eyes snap to him.
Garrett’s voice stays low. “You can sit here until you decide if you want somewhere else.”
The room waits.
Theo looks at Callie.
She gives him a tiny nod. “I’ll be right there.”
That is what does it. Theo crosses the room and climbs into Garrett’s lap.
Garrett adjusts immediately, one arm going around Theo’s back, the other drawing the blanket over his knees.
There is nothing hesitant about it and nothing strange.
Theo tucks sideways against him, cheek near Garrett’s shoulder, his body still trembling from the earlier yellow but no longer lost inside it.
Callie sits beside them.
Not on Garrett. Not tucked into him like she would be with me or Idris. She sits close enough that Theo can reach her, her hip against the cushion near Garrett’s thigh, her hand resting palm-up on the blanket between them.
Theo finds her fingers within seconds.
Garrett looks down at their joined hands, then settles the edge of the blanket over both of them.
The sight knocks something loose in my chest. Theo settles against Garrett with Callie’s hand tucked beneath his cheek, while Idris places a glass of water near the blanket and I move closer on Callie’s other side.
Callie’s shoulder stays warm against mine. Theo keeps holding her hand. I slide closer and drape my arm along the back of the couch behind her. “You good, baby?”
Callie looks at Theo in Garrett’s lap, then at me. Her eyes are still too bright, but her smile reaches me. “Yeah.”
Theo taps her hand once.
Green.
Garrett glances at Idris. “Green.”
Idris nods from the chair, mouth softening. “I saw.”
I reach over and touch Theo’s socked foot where it rests near Callie’s knee. “Proud of you, sweetheart.”
Theo ducks his face against Garrett’s shirt, but he doesn't pull his foot away.
Garrett starts the movie. It is some animated thing with soft music and animals wearing tiny hats, because Callie picked while pretending she didn't care. The lights dim. Rain taps the windows. Theo’s breathing starts to match the slow rise and fall of Garrett’s chest.
Halfway through the opening scene, Theo tugs Callie’s hand closer and presses her knuckles under his cheek.
Callie melts toward him, just a little.
Garrett adjusts the blanket so she doesn't have to move away.
Idris watches that adjustment, then looks at me. I can read the same relief in his face that is sitting heavy in my own ribs. This is working. Awkwardly, slowly, with pauses and colors and all of us learning where to put our hands. But it is working.
Theo falls asleep with Callie’s knuckles tucked beneath his cheek. I keep my hand on the back of the couch instead of reaching for more, and for the first time all night, restraint feels like part of the promise instead of punishment.
Idris rises from the chair and comes around the back of the couch. His hand settles over mine where it rests above Callie’s shoulder, and when I turn my head, he presses a slow kiss to my temple.
“You did well,” he murmurs.
I thread my fingers through his and keep my voice low enough not to wake Theo. “So did we.”