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“Shi—shoot.” Dean takes a step back. A long damn step back.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

“I got sick.”

She looks upset as she wanders out from the hall, but Dean’s right there to scoop her up. “It’s okay, baby. Must be that stomach bug that’s been going around school. Accidents happen. Let’s get everything cleaned up.”

As the two retreat down the hall, I try to get myself under control. It’s not that I’m hard.

It’s that I’m hopeful.

Hope feels risky.

The kiss was good. Better than good. Dean starting it, even better. But the way he backed off when Ella woke up?

He isn’t ready for her to know. What if he never is?

He’s back a few minutes later, dropping a basket of sheets by the door to take to the laundry. He looks tired. Strained. Too many lines on his face for someone his age, especially that ever-present crease in the middle of his forehead.

“Ella’s back asleep?”

He nods. “Didn’t want to be, but she was too exhausted fight it.”

“So are you.”

He seems to ignore me, holding up his phone instead. “I sent a text to Ravi’s boyfriend. About the development the kid mentioned. He said he’d look into it.”

“That’s a good idea.”

He squirms under the weight of the compliment. “It makes the most sense.”

“Like I said, good idea.” For once he’s listening to my advice. Thank God.

“Whatever.” He grabs around on the counter, finally laying hands on the burrito and stuffing it into his mouth. They’re not huge. The entire thing disappears in a few bites.

Then we’re just…standing there. Staring. Awkward silence fills the space between us as Dean chews his burrito.

This is the part where we’d usually fall into certain patterns with each other. But I think we’re both ready to do things differently.

Once he’s washed his hands and his plate and there’s literally nothing else for him to do except avoid my eyes, I grab hold of his hand. “Come on.”

“What?”

“We’re both fucking tired. Let’s go sleep in your tiny bed.”

We’re almost to his bedroom when he stops, and I find myself tugging a lead weight. “Sleep?”

“Did I stutter?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not going to…”

“What?”

“You know. What we usually do.”

I pull him into the room and shut the door. “You trying to tell me the only way you can fall asleep is for me to fuck you or humiliate you? I know that’s not true.”

“Come on.” The way he rubs the back of his neck broadcasts his embarrassment. “No. It’s just…” There’s a wet, loud swallow. “It’s what we usually do.”