Chapter 11 #2
“I checked everything. Water temp, salinity, ammonia, nitrates. I looked at his arms, his eyes, everything. Nothing’s obvious but something’s wrong.”
He nods slowly, still holding me. Then steps back just enough to look down at me again.
“I’m not exactly your marine life guy,” he says with a small, apologetic smile. “But… have you asked your professors?”
“The ones who really know Damon are out today,” I tell him. “I thought about going to Holden, but…”
Theo nods again like he already understands all of it—what I’m saying, and everything I’m not.
“He’s not here either. But I’ll text him,” he says. “In the meantime, let’s go see the little dude. We’ll send H some pictures, see if he can help.”
I want to ask where Holden is. Why Theo sounds so sure. But I don’t. Right now, I just need someone steady. Someone who won’t ask me to explain the weight in my chest.
He pulls out his phone, already typing. I fall into step beside him as we head toward the lab.
All I can think about is that tank—and the clever, elusive creature inside it who’s never let me down.
Half an hour later, Theo has already texted Holden with pictures and a full breakdown of Damon’s condition.
We’ve double-checked every component of the tank and, to my surprise, Theo—thanks to his marine engineering background—has pointed out a few possible adjustments I hadn’t considered.
Damon isn’t doing much better yet, but when Theo dips a hand into the water, one of Damon’s arms curls gently around his fingers, curious.
It’s small, but it’s something. I let myself smile.
Through the whole ordeal, Theo has been a steady presence—calm, composed, but laser-focused.
He tells me when to jot things down, what to photograph, and walks me through his own internal checklist like he’s done this a hundred times.
It’s strange, in a good way, seeing him like this.
That laid-back surfer energy is still there in the background, but now it’s wrapped in something sharper—something meticulous and methodical.
And I get it now, why he has an office beside Holden’s. He’s not just here for vibes and playlist curation. Theo’s the real deal, too.
His phone vibrates on the lab bench. He glances at it, then down at Damon, whose arm is still looped around his finger. “Can you check that? Might be Holden,” he says, nodding toward the unlocked screen.
I sit on the counter and pick it up, thumbing to the texts. It is Holden. A flurry of messages—some short, some detailed. I scroll back to find the first one, but accidentally skim the tail end of a previous conversation before I get there.
I just can’t get her out of my mind, Theo.
The words lodge somewhere deep in my chest, halting everything inside me for half a second. Who? Who can’t he stop thinking about? And why does it feel like the ground just shifted beneath my feet?
But I don’t let myself spiral. Not now. Not when Theo is crouched next to Damon, whispering softly to him the way I do when no one’s around. I force myself back to the task.
“So, what’s he saying?” Theo asks, still focused on the tank.
“Um…” I swallow and read through the newest texts. “He says to check the lab’s general temperature, then the logbook—to see who last handled Damon.”
Theo nods while I keep reading.
Holden goes on to say it’s worth tracking down the last few people who worked in the tank area, in case someone skipped sanitizing or introduced a new variable without logging it. It’s brilliant, of course.
But then I see the last message.
How’s Coralie taking it? If she’s not doing well, I can be there in an hour.
I just… stop. My breath catches, my pulse slows, then speeds up again all at once. The room doesn’t change, but I feel like something in it has. Like I’ve stepped into a different version of the present.
Theo notices. He walks over, plucks the phone gently from my hand, and reads. A smirk blooms slowly on his face.
He glances at me, teasing. “Want me to tell him to come?”
I shake my head, too quickly. “No. No, there’s no need.”
I can take his advice. I can take his brilliance in texts and in lectures, his calm logic, his genius theories—so long as they come from a distance.
But if he walked through that door right now, I don’t trust myself not to fall apart all over again.
Not because he makes anything easier. He doesn’t.
He makes me mad, makes me overthink, makes me question myself and every feeling I thought I had neatly filed away.
He confuses me more than he comforts me. But somehow—somehow—he still feels like something I reach for without meaning to.
Not a constant. Not like Damon. Holden’s not the thing that stays.
He’s the thing that lingers. The ache that doesn’t fade.
The spark that won’t catch fire but refuses to go out.
Every time I’ve needed something, he’s been there—not in the way I asked, not in the way I wanted.
But he was. At the beach. At the lab. At every turning point, hovering at the edges.
Theo raises an eyebrow at me, thumbs something out quickly on his phone—presumably to Holden—then looks up, suddenly serious.
“Coralie,” he says, “may I say something you absolutely didn’t ask for?”
“Uh… can I decline?”
He smirks, then shakes his head. “Nope. That was a courtesy.”
I sigh, already bracing myself. He sits across from me, elbows on his knees, gaze soft but intent.
“I’ve been friends with Holden for a long time,” he says.
I nod, unsure where this is going, but fairly confident I won’t like it.
“And in all that time, I’ve seen him care about a lot of things.
People. Work. Family. Me. And now you. And here’s the thing…
” Theo leans forward slightly. “When Holden cares, he doesn’t do it halfway.
He cares to the point of collapse. And when that happens, he has exactly one instinct—don’t let anyone else get caught in it. ”
I blink at him, the words filtering in slowly.
“He’s not good at showing it,” Theo continues, voice lower now. “But he feels more than most people think he’s capable of. He just… carries it differently. It’s quiet and it’s deep and it’s messy.”
I open my mouth, but he cuts me off with a soft shake of his head.
“And I’m not asking you to forgive him for anything or to suddenly understand the way his brain works. But just—know that he’s not pushing you away because he doesn’t care. He’s pushing you away because he does.”
A quiet laugh escapes me, tired and dry. “That makes no sense.”
Theo shrugs, easy. “Most of Holden doesn’t. That’s kind of the package deal.”
“I just…” I trail off, unsure what I’m even trying to say. “He makes it so hard to tell.”
“I know.” He pauses. “But that’s what I’m trying to explain. He’s not withholding because he’s cruel or careless. He’s careful. Too careful. And it backfires. A lot.”
I look at Theo, at the steady kindness in his expression, and know he’s not trying to play matchmaker or take sides. He’s just giving me the closest thing to a translation that anyone can offer when it comes to Holden Wilkes.
“Thanks,” I say, eventually. Quietly.
“Don’t thank me.” Theo grins, then gets to his feet. “Just keep that in your back pocket. For the next time he says something that makes you feel like you’ve hit a wall.”
I smile at him, and he smiles back—effortless and boyish. His phone buzzes again, and he glances at it, grin widening. But this time, he doesn’t show me what Holden said.
Instead, he extends a hand toward me. “How about we grab some food, bring it back, and try out Holden’s suggestions? See if we can get Damon back to his usual little menace self.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave Damon, if only for a few minutes. But I eventually take his hand and hop off the counter. “I’d like that. But… food’s not allowed in the lab.”
He pauses in the doorway and turns, eyes wide with mock offense. “Are you always like this?”
“Tragically, yes.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re such a little weirdo.”
The way he says it—teasing, kind, familiar—makes something light bloom in my chest. It’s the same way Maya or Soren say it.
We laugh as we step out into the hallway. I find myself already looking forward to coming back—to trying everything Holden suggested, to watching Theo crouch by the tank like it’s a new ritual of his, to maybe seeing a flash of color return to Damon’s skin.
And suddenly, I want to spare the shrimps from anyone’s AC vents. Because I am grateful. For Theo’s steadiness. For Damon, still holding on, as best as he can. And for Holden—who, in his own maddening, layered way—showed up again.
Like he always does.