He grinned, unbothered, tipping his stool back as he took another bite.
I picked up my spoon slower, watching the steam curl along the surface before blowing on it and taking a careful bite.
My mom stayed on the other side of the counter with her own bowl, fingers wrapped loosely around it. She never sat when we were here, always hovering within reach of something that might need her.
Stirring her soup, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. My brain’s just been… moving. I keep thinking if I just follow it all the way through, I’ll get somewhere.”
Must be genetic.
“It’s okay. I just—” I stared into my bowl. “I thought you were upset with me.”
“No. No, Archie.” Her spoon clicked softly against the counter as she set it down. “I send things because I need you to have them. To stay sharp. To stay aware.”
“Mom.” I let out a small breath through my nose. “We both know you send them in case it triggers something. A memory.”
The shift was unmistakable. Tension coiled so tight, it was almost tangible.
Shit.
Her shoulders drew in just enough that I knew I’d crossed something we usually left alone.
Dropping my gaze to my bowl, I pulled my spoon through the broth without taking another bite, buying myself a second I probably didn’t deserve.
We didn’t talk like that.
Not directly.
We circled everything, let it exist without ever saying it out loud because saying it made it real in a way neither of us seemed willing to deal with.
And now I had.
Lips pressed together, the guilt started to creep in, because I knew better. Ialwaysknew better.
Rhys shifted beside me, the back legs of his stool hitting the floor again with a quiet thud as he leaned forward. “I think what Arch is trying to say is that it gets to be a lot. All at once.”
My grip tightened slightly around my spoon.
“I feel like I’m always racing toward a cliff,” I whispered. “I’m just…waitingfor the moment it appears, and I get tossed off the edge. My nervous system is one inconvenience away from short-circuiting.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
“Archie, honey, why haven’t you said anything?”
I almost laughed.
Because since when had that worked?
Ihadsaid it.
Years ago, while sitting on that old suede couch Abel and I used to body slam each other on. I word-vomited all over a therapist who kept nodding like she understood while nothing actually changed.
It had gone about as well as this was going now.
That wasn’t entirely fair.
People changed. Or at least… they were supposed to.
I owed her the benefit of the doubt. It had beenyears, and it wasn’t her fault my brain was permanently set to worst-case scenario.
