“I’m… doing better than last semester,” Caleb says, honest in that careful way he’s been practicing. “I’m tired, yeah, but it’s… normal tired. Not ‘spend all day in bed and ignore the world’ tired.”
Mom nods approvingly. “That’s progress,” she says. “And you’re eating,sí? You look too thin to me.”
“I’m eating,” he assures her. “Miggy force-feeds me whenever I’m at the condo.”
I snort. “You make it sound criminal.”
“It’s suspicious,” he says. “I’m investigating.”
Dad’s gaze flicks to me. “And you?” he asks. “How’s work?”
“Busy,” I say. “We’ve got a remodel on the Westside and someone’s Victorian that decides to cry every time it rains. Benny almost fell through an attic last week.”
Caleb elbows me. “He told me that one. I’m telling you, you guys need hazard pay.”
“I get paid in trauma and tetanus,” I say.
Mom tsks. “Don’t joke about tetanus, Miguel. You keep your shots up to date.”
Dad’s fingers tap a quiet rhythm on his glass. “And you feel like you’re… managing?” he asks me. The word is loaded. “With… everything?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I’m… figuring it out,” I say. “I met with the counselor Dr. Kaur recommended. It helps. A little.”
He nods slowly. “Good,” he says. “I’m… glad you’re taking that seriously.”
“I am,” I say, meeting his eyes. “He’s worth taking seriously.”
The table goes quiet for a moment and Caleb’s hand slides over my knee under the table, staying there this time.
Mom breaks the silence. “I’m glad you both have people to talk to who are not me,” she says briskly. “I don’t like seeing you carry everything alone. Either of you.”
We survive the rest of dinner on safe topics, game recaps, neighborhood gossip, and Mom’s ongoing romance with various grocery store sales. Every once in a while, Dad veers close to something sharper—“Have you thought more about what you want to do after graduation?” “What does next season look like?”—but he doesn’t step on any of our agreed-upon landmines.
It’s not easy.
But it’s not a disaster.
When the plates are mostly cleared and Mom stands, she pauses, turns back to us, and points a finger.
“Okay,” she says. “New house rules.”
Caleb’s face goes pale. “For spring break?” he squeaks.
“For my sanity,” she corrects. “You’re both grown men. I am not going to pretend you don’t do what you do.” She crosses herself dramatically.“Dios me ayude.”
Caleb makes a dying noise.
I just smirk… Because what the fuck else am I to do?
Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “Celeste,” he says, with warning in his voice.
She waves him off. “Tranquilo,Ashton. I’m just saying—they’re staying here, they are together, and these walls are thin. So.” She looks at us pointedly. “At night, you keep things… down. Soft. I do not need to hear the… enthusiasm. You’ll scare your father.”
She winks so hard I can hear Caleb’s soul leave his body.
All I can think about is Halloween. Him in this house, me sneaking into his room after everyone was asleep, hand over his mouth when he got too loud, both of us sure we were being stealthy when we absolutely were not.
Caleb makes strangled eye contact with me, cheeks blazing. I lose it and start laughing. Not polite, not containable—full chest, head back, can’t breathe laughter.
