She glances up at me, then down at the glass again, her fingers sliding back to it. The hesitation lasts a heartbeat, nomore, before she lifts it and takes a sip, slower this time, like she’s aware of being watched.
I keep my hand where it is.
She drinks again.
“Good girl.” I move away, giving her space like the outcome was never in question, and turn to the sink, running water over the pan while the sound of it fills the quiet.
In my peripheral vision, Daniel shifts in his chair, stretching his legs out before the movement pulls at his arm. He stops mid-motion, jaw tightening for a second before he eases back instead of pushing through it.
“Easy.” I glance at him, just long enough.
He exhales through his nose and adjusts without argument, settling deeper into the chair, his shoulder dropping a fraction when he stops fighting it.
Melanie watches him, then me, something warm moving through her expression that wasn’t there yesterday. She turns back to her plate, but her hand finds his again under the table, resting there without asking.
“What time is it?” She curls her fingers loosely around her mug, bringing it closer even though she doesn’t drink.
“Close to one.” I dry my hands slowly, folding the towel once before setting it aside.
She leans back, the movement loose, her shoulder brushing his.
“That explains why I don’t feel like doing anything today.”
“Excellent.” I step in behind her chair again, my hand settling where it was before. “You won’t have to.”
She tips her head slightly, not looking back, but I feel the shift in her attention all the same.
Daniel looks up at me, then at her, his hand tightening slightly over hers before easing again, his thumb slower now, deliberate.
I hold where I am.
“What do you need?”
She takes her time answering, her fingers curling under his, holding instead of resting. When she looks up, her eyes are steady.
“Quiet,” she says. “And time to just… be.”
“You’ll have it.” I nod once and look at him. “And you?”
Dan leans back, testing the space before letting himself settle into it, his breath leaving him as his shoulders drop.
“Couch,” he says. “Something mindless.”
“That works.” I smooth a hand down the front of my jeans and step back, leaving them room without breaking the line of it. “Living room. You take the couch. Keep that arm supported.”
He nods.
No pause.
Melanie pushes her chair back and stands, already turning toward the hallway.
“My sketchbook’s in the bedroom.”
“Then get it.”
She goes, the shirt shifting against her legs with each step, the fabric catching the light before she disappears around the corner.
He nods, the movement small but settled, his gaze still on mine as he pushes his chair back. It scrapes softly against the floor, his weight shifting forward as he stands, careful with his arm but not guarded anymore.
