We ride in that easy rhythm for a while. Highway noise, coffee sips, Mikey narrating random facts about Atlanta that he’s absolutely making up. At some point Sadie pulls her knees up on the bench, tucking herself into the corner like she’s settling into home base. She yawns and tries to hide it, which is useless because the whole bus sees it.
“Tired?” I ask.
“A little.” She shrugs. “It’s tour life.”
“You can crash in the back if you want.”
She glances at the bunks. “I’m okay here.” The bench is narrow, not built for napping unless you’re Mikey, who can sleep upside down if given ten seconds and a pillow.
Sadie tries anyway. She leans her head against the window for a second, then shifts because the vibration’s annoying. She aims for the wall behind her, then gives up and sits straight again.
I watch her fight sleep for two minutes. Then I stand and tug my hoodie over my head and toss it to her. “Use that.”
She catches it, eyes widening as she stares back at me. “Dean…”
“Don’t make it weird,” I mutter, settling back into my seat. “It’s clean.”
Her eyes go soft. “Thanks,” she murmurs.
She folds it and puts it against the wall, then lies down with her head on it. Not on me. Not close to me. Just letting me help. It’s progress, even if it’s in baby steps.
She closes her eyes. Her breathing slows. And for a while, I just sit there listening to the bus hum and the low crackle of the TV and Mikey’s spoon clinking like an idiot.
Sadie sleeps and the sight of her on our bus, in our world, trusting the space around her, trusting me - hits me in a place I don’t normally feel things. Somewhere around my ribs. Somewhere around the old fear. I don’t poke at it. I just breathe.
Mikey leans in, stage-whispering like we’re in a library. “Bro.”
I flick my eyes to him. “What?”
He nods toward Sadie. “You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing where you care and pretend you don’t.”
I stare at him.
He shrugs. “Just saying. It’s a nice look.”
“Eat your cereal.”
“Already did.” He smiles sweetly. “I’m a free man now.”
“Go away.” I growl in frustration.
“Have you decided to stop being a dumbass?”
I lower my voice. “I’m not being a dumbass.”
Mikey makes a face like sure, Jan. “You gave her your hoodie, you didn’t run, and you laughed at her threat. That’s like three emotional steps forward for you. Major props, man. I’m proud of you.” He says it lightly, but there’s something careful under it. A friend watching me not drown for once.
“Shut up,” I grumble as I try to contain a smile. He grins and turns back to the TV.
An hour later Sadie stirs. She blinks like she’s orienting herself in a foreign country, then finds me watching her. Her cheeks pink just a shade, as I place a fresh, hot coffee on the table in front of her.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Her lips curve up just a fraction.
“I know.” I slide the cup closer to her.
