Chapter 10
I returned to the yacht before sunrise.
No council decision.
No punishment.
Adrian was right.
Milo first.
He was asleep beside Ruth.
The torn drawing rested on the pillow.
Both halves.
I sat on the floor.
Waited.
When he woke, he saw me and froze.
Not flinch.
Freeze.
Still deciding which version of my voice was real.
I hated everyone who created that hesitation.
“Morning.”
He stared.
“Say something.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“Anything.”
I understood.
He was testing.
Listening.
I said:
“I hate peas.”
He frowned.
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“You eat them.”
“Adults suffer.”
He smiled.
Good.
Then serious again.
“Phone voice?”
“Fake words.”
“Real voice?”
“Pieces of it.”
He thought.
“Like puzzle?”
“Yes.”
“Bad puzzle.”
“Very.”
I picked up the drawing.
“Can I tape this?”
He nodded.
We repaired it together.
Not perfectly.
A line remained where our drawn hands joined.
Milo touched it.
“Still broke.”
“Yes.”
His face fell.
I added:
“Broke paper can still show the same picture.”
He stared at me.
Then leaned against my shoulder.
That was enough.
Later he asked about Grayhaven.
I told him he was not going unless someday, when older, he wanted to visit.
He asked:
“Leonard new daddy?”
“No.”
“Celina said.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Hard question.
“Because some adults wanted you to believe you needed them more than me.”
He frowned.
“But I need Grandma too.”
Ruth laughed from the doorway.
Exactly.
Love is not a tournament.
Then Milo asked:
“Celina come back?”
I did not know.
So I said:
“I don’t know.”
He accepted uncertainty better than adults.
Then:
“Gareth?”
“No.”
Immediate.
May you like
Ruth smiled.
Apparently some decisions were easier.
