Page 59 of Cut Off
“It’s a surprise. But only if you’re willing to trust me.”
Zoe raises an eyebrow, but I shoot her a private look. She gets it. She always does.
Eli wipes his hands on his jeans and follows me up the stairs. As we step into his room, I flick off the light.
He just stands there—silent, frozen, jaw hanging open. He stares at the fort, the glowing ceiling, the battalion of plush security officers at the door.
Holy shit, I broke him.
But then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. One that starts at the corners of his mouth and lights up his entire face. He turns to me, eyes wide.
“This is so cool,” he says.
I can’t even breathe. I’d take any award, any trophy, any record-smashing game and trade it for this right now. My kid just smiled at me.
Eli dives into the fort, poking at the construction. “How did you make it stay up?” He inspects the “rafters.”
“Hockey sticks. They’re good for more than just breaking noses.”
He snorts and crawls up onto his bed, settling in beneath the blankets. “There’s even a place for Flash.” He wedges the action figure into one of the pillow turrets. “And the lights make it look like outer space.”
I climb in next to him, trying to keep my giant body from wrecking the whole thing. We’re cocooned in this absurd, soft-walled universe, glow stars overhead, the faint scent of laundry detergent and possibility in the air.
Eli glances at the stack of books beside him. “What will you read tonight?”
A few months ago, that question would’ve made me want to sneak away. Now, it’s all I want.
I grab the book with a dragon on the cover, saying, “‘The Dragon’s Code,’” flipping it open. “Are you ready for it?”
Eli nods, tucking Flash under one arm and the plush dinosaur under the other. I read, not putting on the same dramatic reading voice Zoe does, but I try. The story is about logic puzzles, secret codes, and a tiny dragon with a chip on its scaly shoulder—basically, Eli in reptile form.
Every few pages, he stops me to comment. “Why don’t they just use binary?” “That riddle is too easy.” “I bet Zoe understood the twist before you did.”
He’s probably right. When I reach the end, Eli looks up at me, solemn. “She picks good books. Like my mom did.”
“She does. She’s the best. And I’m sure your mom picked amazing books too.”
He’s quiet, and I think that’s it, but then he says, barely more than a whisper, “Will you stay this time?”
A lump forms in my throat, hard and sharp. “Yeah. I’ll stay as long as you want.”
He nestles closer, tucking himself against my side, tiny body finally relaxing, like a pressure valve releasing. My arm goes around him, careful but steady. I’m not moving.
Time passes—soft and slow, nothing like the chaos of last night. Eli drifts off, breathing evening out. I stare at the ceiling, watching the fake constellations, feeling more like a parent than I ever have in my life.
At some point, the door creaks. Zoe’s face appears in the entrance to the fort, the hallway lighting her up like an angel. She sees us tangled up in the blankets—Eli’s asleep, me holding on—and her whole face changes. Not just “oh cute kid” happy, but deeper. Her eyes go shiny, her mouth does this wobbly half-smile, and it’s obvious she actually cares. Like, cares cares.
I give her a thumbs up. She flashes a double thumbs-up back before vanishing around the corner. The last thing I see is the shine in her eyes.
I don’t want to move. I don’t want to break the spell. So I don’t. I stay exactly where I am, uncomfortable pillow, dead weight kid, and all.
My son asleep in my arms, jaw slack, hair a mess, and I’d let my whole body go numb for this any day of the week.
I lie there, watching my kid breathe, and hope to hell Rosie’s out there somewhere, seeing what’s happening here. Because it’s fucking good.
It’s real and happening—all thanks to Zoe Lane.
17
