Page 113 of Yours to Keep
And silently make a promise I already know I intend to keep.
He is not leaving.
Not while I’m still breathing.
* * *
I walk the drinks over and hand them across, while Finn talks far too loudly again, like volume alone can keep the world from getting serious. Something about tea strength being a competitive sport.
Deck, as always, is correcting him like it’s his life’s work. Calm. Patient. Firm.
“Strong doesn’t mean weaponized,” he says flatly.
Finn looks personally offended. “It absolutely does.”
I have no idea how these conversations keep happening, but they do. Like gravity just accepts Finn as a problem it has to work around. And somehow Deck just absorbs it. Keeps him steady.
I should probably have a conversation with Deck about Finn. A serious one.
Eli sits curled into the couch, slowly relearning what safe is supposed to feel like. One hand is wrapped around the mug I made him, still untouched, like he’s holding onto it more for grounding than drinking.
He watches them quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Barely there, but real enough to hit me right in the chest.
Finn is on the floor, legs stretched out, leaning back against the couch beside Deck like he’s always belonged there. Like he just settled into our lives and the world decided not to argue about it.
Maybe it didn’t.
Deck gets up and heads to the kitchen. Knowing Deck, he’s probably washing dishes that don’t need washing orreorganizing my cupboards just to keep his hands busy. That’s him; I don’t know what the fuck he does, but he can carry on if it makes him happy. All I know is he takes care of things until there’s nothing left to fall apart.
I sit beside Eli and realize something I don’t say out loud.
This is normal.
Deck and Finn arguing over nothing. Eli and I sitting in the middle of it like we’re borrowing someone else’s life for a while.
And somehow, it feels good.
Eli shifts slightly. I see it immediately: that flicker, the scan.
Eyes drifting to doors. Windows. Corners. Counting exits without thinking about it. The instinct guts me. Eli shouldn’t have to live like this, counting threats in every shadow.
My chest tightens. “You alright?”
He nods too quickly. “Yeah.”
Finn snorts without even looking up. “That was the least convincing yeah I’ve ever heard in my life.”
A tiny smile tugs at Eli’s mouth. And fuck, I miss that. I want more of it.
Deck walks back in and drops onto the couch beside Finn.
“Seriously,” he says. “I leave you alone for ten minutes, and nothing improves.”
“That’s not true,” Finn says immediately. “I emotionally improved the couch.”
Deck stares at him. “You sat on it.”
Finn leans into him without hesitation. “Exactly, Lumberjack.”
