“How ya doing, kid?”
Eli looks down at his mug. “I don’t know.”
Deck nods once. “Good.”
Eli looks up at him.
“That means you aren’t pretending.”
Deck stands and disappears into the kitchen. A minute later he comes back with Finn, both of them carrying mugs like this is some kind of operation.
“Right,” Finn says, sitting back down. “Team meeting. No one dies. No one leaves. And if anyone tries, I’m tackling them.”
He takes a sip and exhales like he’s been personally healed by his emotional support tea.
“Ah. Now that is a proper cup of tea.”
Eli lets out a quiet laugh. Then actually drinks from his mug.
“Yeah, Finn,” he says softly. “It’s good.”
And just like that, something in the room settles. Conversation drifts again, lighter, broken up by small bursts of laughter. Eli stays tucked into it all, like he’s testing whether he’s allowed to exist in it without it disappearing. And I stay beside him, holding him without holding him too tight. Letting him breathe inside it.
My boy.
* * *
An hour later, my phone rings.
Ree.
Deck had contacted her after we found Eli: told her he was safe, gave her my number for emergencies.
Something in my chest tightens before I even answer.
I stand. “I’ve gotta take this.”
I walk into the bedroom and close the door behind me.
“Ree, hey.”
A pause. Too long.
When she speaks, her voice is rough, frayed at the edges like she’s been crying for a long time before this call.
“CJ…” Her voice drops off, and my stomach drops.
“Tell me.”
Another breath. “Marge passed this morning.”
Silence hits first. Not shock or surprise, just weight.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
She exhales shakily. “There’s something else.”
My focus sharpens instantly. “Go on.”
