I set the tray down and hand Daniel his mug first, watching the way his fingers close around it, the slight adjustment in his grip when the heat registers. He lifts the mug and settles back with a tired sigh.
Something in me settles with it, my attention sharpening instead of easing off. “Drink.”
He brings the mug to his mouth and takes a sip.
Only then do I realize how tightly I’d been holding my own cup.
I shift my attention.
Melanie.
Her fingers flex on the armrest, her thumb making a slow pass over the edge as she watches him, her focus following the line of his movement instead of the coffee itself. When his hand lowers again, her gaze lifts and meets mine, and the change in her breathing is small but there, her chest rising a little deeper, holding for a fraction longer before she lets it go.
I stay where I am and watch them together, the space between them narrowing without either of them moving to close it, the moment stretching just enough to see what they do with it.
I feel her attention on me as I pass her the tea, the shift in her breath giving her away before I even look at her, and I let my fingers brush hers when I place the glass in her hand, not enough to hold, just enough that the contact lands and stays with her.
Another deep inhalation follows.
I take my own tea and sit across from them, settling forward instead of leaning back, my weight balanced, ready, and I let the silence stretch for a second as they both stay where they are, watching, waiting without either of them deciding to fill it.
“You felt the difference tonight.”
Daniel exhales through his nose, his mouth pulling to the side before he answers. “Yeah.”
Melanie doesn’t speak, but her fingers shift against the cup, her grip tightening just enough that I see it in the tendons along her wrist.
I turn my attention back to Daniel. “You don’t like being handled like you’re about to break.”
His jaw sets, his hand firming around the mug. “No.”
I lean forward, closing a fraction of the space between us, enough that he feels it without needing to adjust.
“Where does that sit when you say it?”
He pauses, caught for a moment, then his hand leaves the mug and presses against his stomach, his fingers spreading slightly as he finds the spot. “Here. Like it knots.”
I follow the movement, then shift to her.
“And you?”
Her gaze drops for a beat, then comes back up, her hand already moving, pressing just under her collarbone as her breath catches there. “Here.”
I let that sit between them, watching the way he glances at her and then away again, his fingers tightening briefly around the mug before easing, like he’s not sure where to put what he just heard.
“You’re moving around each other,” I say, my gaze passing between them, “but you’re not landing in the same place.”
Daniel shifts against the couch, his shoulder rolling back as he exhales. “Feels like whatever I do makes it worse.”
Melanie’s lips part, but she stays quiet, giving him the space to finish.
“I push,” he continues, his grip tightening again, “or I pull back, and we end up right back here.”
I let the words settle, then turn to her. “You take over.”
She lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, but it doesn’t carry. “Someone has to.” Her chin lifts when she says it, but her shoulders stay where they are, the tension held low and steady instead of rising with it.
“And you’re done carrying it.”
