Her mom pressed a hand briefly to her chest and nodded. “Okay.”
“I did what I was supposed to,” Bobbi said. “I stayed calm. I asked before I came. Zoey says she’s proud of me.”
Zoey nodded. “Very.”
Bobbi’s mom smiled and crouched, pulling Bobbi into a quick hug. The girl endured it and shifted just enough to keep Markie steady.
“That was good judgment,” her mom said.
“Yes,” Bobbi agreed.
Bobbi pointed at me. “This is Liam.”
Her mom looked up, took me in, and offered a polite smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“And look at this,” Bobbi added, gesturing to her knee, “Markie likes me!”
“RESTART YOUR SHIT,” Markie said.
Her mom blinked.
“I’m sorry,” Zoey said. “He’s opinionated and very vocal.”
“That’s okay,” her mom said, clearly deciding not to engage with it. She straightened and glanced at Bobbi. “Ready to go?”
Bobbi stood and adjusted her backpack. “I’ll see you later,” she told Zoey. Then she paused. “Please don’t fall again.”
“I’ll do my best,” Zoey said.
Bobbi nodded and headed out, her sneakers lighting up with each step.
Her mom lingered by the door, keys back in her hand. “I can bring some meals? Nothing fancy. Just something for a few dinners while you’re recovering.”
Zoey opened her mouth immediately. I knew that look. Reflexive refusal. Polite, fast, absolute.
“That’s not necessary,” Zoey started.
“Thank you,” I said at the same time.
Both of them looked at me.
Bobbi’s mom smiled with clear relief. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll text first.”
“That would be great,” I said.
Zoey turned her head slowly toward me, outrage flashing in her eyes. I met her gaze and gave her a small wink. Her mouth pressed into a line, then she pouted despite her best efforts.
Bobbi’s mom waved, satisfied, and ushered Bobbi out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
The house felt larger immediately.
Zoey stayed where she was. Still pouting and pretending she wasn’t.
I stayed where I was.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
