We move to the weights. I hand him a resistance band and talk him through the first set of exercises, watching his form. It’s good—it’s always good—but he’s rushing. Pushing through the reps like he’s trying to outrun something.
“Slow down,” I tell him. “You’re going to strain something.”
He doesn’t slow down. If anything, he goes faster, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on a point somewhere over my shoulder.
“Zayden.”
Nothing.
“Zayden, stop.”
He finishes the rep and reaches for a heavier band. I step forward and put my hand on his arm.
“Hey.” I wait until he looks at me. His eyes are dark, distant, like he’s here but not really here at all. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m here.”
“Your body’s here. Your head’s in another zip code.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he sets down the band and runs a hand through his hair, exhaling hard.
“Maze had a rough night.”
The visit. Sienna. I don’t say it out loud, but I don’t have to.
“Yeah,” he says, reading my face. “It was... well, it wasn’t great.”
I wait but don’t push. I just stand there with my hand still on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin, the tension humming beneath the surface.
“She didn’t cry when Sienna left.” His voice is rough. “That’s the thing. She didn’t cry, she didn’t throw a fit, she just... went quiet. Like she was expecting it. Like she’s learned not to hope for anything.”
My chest aches.
“She’s six years old, Tori. She shouldn’t know how to protect herself like that. She shouldn’t have to.”
“No,” I agree softly. “She shouldn’t.”
He’s looking at the floor now, shoulders hunched, and I’ve never seen him like this. Cracked open. Vulnerable. It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and not let go.
I don’t do that. But I want to.
“I couldn’t fix it,” he says. “I just had to lie there while she fell asleep holding onto my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear too. And I couldn’t do anything.”
“You were there. That’s not nothing.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It’s everything.” I step closer, close enough that he has to look at me. “You’re a great dad, Zayden.”
He goes still and gazes up at me with a soft expression.
The silence stretches between us, heavy with something I can’t name.
“How do you do that?” he asks quietly.
“Do what?”
“Say exactly what I need to hear.”
