Yeah. I definitely need to talk to Deck about Finn.
I pull Eli a little closer and watch him watching them, like he’s trying to figure out how people exist like this. Like it’s not a trick.
“You hungry?” I ask softly.
He shrugs. Not a yes. Not a no. Just somewhere in between where he always seems to sit.
I don’t push it today.
“Finn’s been feeding him snacks like he’s at a wildlife rescue safari park,” Deck says casually.
Finn lifts a hand. “He likes biscuits.”
“I tolerate them,” Eli mutters.
“You love them,” Finn shoots back. “Don’t lie.”
And there it is.
A real smile. Small, but real.
My chest tightens at the sight of it. Like something in me releases and breaks at the same time. I didn’t realize how hard he’d been holding on.
Deck glances over. He gets Eli in a way that I don’t.
“Eli,” Deck says quietly. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Finn nods immediately. “Yeah. Just in case anyone was confused or anything.”
His eyes flick to Eli, softer now. No pressure, only reassurance. But I see what Deck sees too: that instinct, the waiting, the expectation that good things don’t stay good and that at some point, the floor always drops out from under you.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
Eli looks at me.
“You don’t have to figure everything out today. Or tomorrow. Just take your time.”
He swallows hard. Finn goes quiet. Even Deck does.
“People usually leave,” Eli says softly.
“Yeah,” I answer honestly. “They do.” I squeeze his hand gently. “But not all of us.”
Finn’s voice is quieter now. “And not us.”
Deck doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at Eli says everything he’s choosing not to say out loud.
Eli tries to fight it. I see it in his face: that reflex and expectation of disappointment. But he doesn’t pull away.
Finn suddenly stands.
“I’m making tea. Proper tea. Not this emotional support water CJ keeps serving.” He points at me on his way to the kitchen.
“Don’t burn anything,” Deck calls after him.
Finn flips him off without turning around.
A few minutes later, Deck leans forward slightly.
