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. ItisHolden. 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 upagain 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—notin the way I asked, not in the way I wanted. But hewas. 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 hefeelsmore than most people think he’s capable of. He just… carries it differently. It’s quiet and it’s deep and it’s messy.”
