Chapter 17
I notice the change before she does.
Chloe eats when I'm here now.
Not always without hesitation, but she does it.
She sleeps a bit longer, too—at least when I'm close enough that she knows she'll hear Ava if something goes wrong. She doesn't say that part out loud, but I can see it in the way her shoulders don't stay locked as tightly when I'm in the apartment.
And Ava—
Ava has decided I'm part of the furniture.
Which is... a problem I didn't expect to have.
Right now, she's sitting in my lap, gripping my hoodie strings like she's personally responsible for making sure I don't leave the planet.
Chloe is at the counter pretending she's not watching.
She is watching.
I feel it.
"You're staring again," I say without looking up.
"I'm not," she replies instantly.
I glance at her.
She's absolutely staring.
I don't call her out on it.
Not yet.
Ava lets out a small happy sound and leans forward, smacking my chest like she's testing whether I'm still real.
"Careful," I murmur to her. "I'm fragile."
Chloe snorts from the counter before she can stop herself.
That sound hits me in a way I don't fully acknowledge.
It's different from the earlier version of her laughter. Less careful. Less guarded.
More real.
"Fragile?" she repeats. "You're literally built like a wall."
I shrug slightly.
"Walls crack."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling now.
Small.
There.
I notice everything about her lately.
The way she moves through the apartment without checking every corner twice anymore.
The way she sits down without immediately scanning exits.
The way she lets Ava make noise without instantly bracing for impact.
It's not gone.
But it's less.
That matters.
Ava grabs my dog tag chain, where it sits loose under my shirt.
Again.
She's done it before.
She always does it like it's the most interesting object in existence.
"Hey," I tell her quietly, gently easing her hand away. "Not that one."
She protests immediately with a small sound.
Chloe looks over.
"You're her favourite toy," she says.
"I've noticed."
"That should probably worry you."
"It doesn't," I reply.
That earns me a look.
She leans against the counter now, arms folded loosely.
"You're getting... comfortable here," she says.
It's not an accusation.
Not quite.
More like she's testing the words in her mouth.
I think about it for a second.
Yeah.
I am.
Too much for what this is supposed to be.
Too much for what I told myself it would be at the start.
Just checking in.
Just helping.
Just making sure they're okay.
Except now I know what her silence sounds like when she's tired.
I know how Ava settles when she's held properly.
I know what time Chloe usually forgets to eat if I don't remind her.
That's not "checking in" anymore.
That's routine.
That's involvement.
I shift Ava slightly in my lap.
"She's easier when she's calm," I say.
Chloe studies me for a moment.
"You say that like it's normal for you to be here this much," she says.
"It is now."
That makes her pause.
I don't mean it in a big way.
I don't mean it like I've decided anything permanent.
But I hear how it sounds anyway.
Chloe hears it too.
Her gaze flicks away for a second before returning.
"People don't usually just... stay," she says quietly.
I look at her.
"Yeah," I say. "I've noticed."
Silence stretches.
Ava taps my chest again, then rests her head there like she's done with conversation.
I automatically adjust my hold on her.
Chloe watches that.
I don't miss it.
There's something in her expression I've started recognising more often.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something closer to awareness, she doesn't know what to do with.
She pushes off the counter and walks closer.
Stops just beside the couch.
"You don't have to keep doing all this," she says.
I glance up at her.
"Doing what?"
"This," she says, gesturing vaguely between me, her, the apartment, and Ava. "All of it."
I don't answer immediately.
Because I could say a dozen things.
None of them is fully accurate.
Instead, I look down at Ava.
She's half-asleep now, still gripping my hoodie.
Then I look back at Chloe.
"You think I'm doing it because I have to?" I ask quietly.
Chloe hesitates.
That's an answer enough.
I shift slightly on the couch so I can see her properly.
"I'm here because I choose to be," I say.
Her throat moves like she's swallowed something she can't quite process.
"That's not—" she starts.
She stops again.
Because she doesn't know how to finish it.
I do.
That's the problem.
Ava lets out a small sleepy sound.
Chloe immediately tenses out of instinct.
I see it happen.
Before she can even stand, I say softly, "She's fine."
Chloe pauses.
Listens.
Ava settles again without fully waking.
Chloe exhales slowly.
Not quite relaxing.
But not reacting either.
That's progress.
I lean back into the couch slightly.
Chloe is still standing there.
Close enough now that I could reach her if I wanted to.
I don't.
Not because I can't.
Because I don't need to.
"I should probably head out soon," I say eventually.
It's the responsible thing to say.
The correct thing.
Chloe doesn't respond immediately.
Then, quietly:
"Do you have to?"
I look at her.
She's not looking away this time.
That's new too.
Ava shifts again, fully asleep now, heavy against my chest.
I could leave.
I probably should.
But I don't move.
"...Not immediately," I say.
Something in her shoulders loosens a fraction.
Not much.
But enough.
And I realise, not for the first time—
I'm not the only one getting used to this.