The Touch - Rewrite

I woke up to movement.

It wasn’t close enough to startle me awake, but it was there—faint sounds carrying down from upstairs, a soft thud followed by the quiet creak of floorboards shifting. For a few seconds, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, listening as my mind slowly caught up.

Greg.

He was already up, moving around above me like it was nothing unusual. The sound didn’t feel threatening. It didn’t make my chest tighten the way sudden noise usually did. It just… existed, part of the house waking up around me.

I stayed still for a moment longer before shifting carefully against the couch. The soreness followed immediately, settling into my ribs and shoulders like it had been waiting, but it wasn’t as sharp as it had been the day before. When I pushed myself up slowly, bracing one hand against the cushion, the pain came with it—but it didn’t stop me.

That alone felt different.

I sat there for a second, looking toward the hallway. The bathroom wasn’t far. I could have called for him, waited for Greg to come down and help like before, but the thought lingered longer than it needed to. I didn’t want to wait.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I swung my legs over the edge of the couch and stood.

The floor felt steady under my feet, but I didn’t trust it enough to move without thinking. My hand reached out automatically, gripping the back of the nearest chair as I took a careful step forward. The movement pulled at my ribs, a dull ache that followed with each shift of weight, but I kept going, slower than I wanted to be but steady enough that I didn’t have to stop.

I stayed close to everything—the chairs, the wall, anything solid enough to catch me if I needed it. My fingers brushed along the surface as I moved, never quite letting go until I was sure I could take the next step. By the time I reached the bathroom, my breathing had picked up slightly, but I was still upright.

Still in control.

That mattered more than I let myself think about.

When I finished, I lingered for a second, one hand resting against the counter as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t look good—not really—but I didn’t look as bad either. There was less of that hollowed-out look, less of the pale, drawn expression that had followed me since the hospital.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

I turned and stepped back into the hallway, moving just as carefully as before. My hand found the wall again, then the back of a chair as I made my way into the living room.

“Good to see you getting your independence back, buddy.”

The voice came out of nowhere.

I flinched hard, a sharp sound escaping me before I could stop it as my hand clamped down on the chair to keep myself upright. My heart kicked hard in my chest as I looked up, trying to figure out where he’d come from.

Greg stood near the hallway, one hand braced against the wall, looking entirely too amused with himself.

“Don’t do that,” I said quickly, still catching my breath as the adrenaline faded just as fast as it had come. “Seriously.”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he said, though the grin on his face made it clear he didn’t mean it much. “Didn’t think I was that quiet.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself as the tension eased. “Good thing I already went,” I muttered, glancing back toward the hallway. “Or I probably would’ve done it right there.”

That made him laugh again, louder this time, the sound easy and unrestrained in a way that didn’t feel forced.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing off the wall. “Let’s not test that theory.”

A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it, surprising me more than anything else. It didn’t feel wrong. Just unfamiliar.

Greg’s expression settled after a second, the humor fading into something more observant as he glanced toward the hallway and then back at me.

“You do that on your own?” he asked.

I shrugged, trying to keep it casual even though my grip on the chair hadn’t fully loosened yet. “Yeah.”

He nodded once, like that was enough. “Good,” he said simply. “That’s good.”

He didn’t make it into anything bigger than that. No big reaction, no overdoing it. Just acknowledgment.

It sat easier that way.

He stepped back toward the kitchen, motioning slightly. “You want some toast?” he asked. “Keep it simple this morning.”

“Yeah,” I said, the word coming easier than I expected.

The walk to the table wasn’t as hard this time. I still took it slow, still kept a hand on something whenever I could, but my balance didn’t feel as shaky. Greg stayed nearby without hovering, moving around the kitchen while I settled into the chair.

Breakfast passed quietly. The toast was warm, simple, and I ate without really thinking about it, more focused on the fact that I’d made it there without needing help than anything else.

When I finished, I stayed sitting for a moment, my hands resting lightly against the table as my thoughts drifted.

“I—” I hesitated, glancing toward the hallway. “Can I take another bath?”

Greg looked up from the sink, drying his hands. “Yeah,” he said easily. “You want to try upstairs this time? Bathroom up there’s bigger.”

I paused, considering it.

“Okay,” I said after a second.

He nodded. “You can grab some clothes too. Whatever you want.”

The words settled strangely.

Whatever I want.

I didn’t respond right away, just nodded again, quieter this time.

Greg tossed the towel over his shoulder and glanced toward the stairs. “We’ll take it slow,” he added. “No rush.”

Then, like it wasn’t anything important, he said, “We’ve gotta swing by my office later this afternoon.”

I looked up at that. “Why?”

“Gotta grab your laptop,” he said. “Figured you might want something better than daytime TV.”

I froze for a second.

A laptop.

My grip tightened slightly against the edge of the table as the thought settled in. That wasn’t small. That wasn’t something you just… gave someone. It was expensive. Important. The kind of thing that came with expectations.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said quickly, the words coming out before I could stop them. “I’m fine with the TV.”

Greg frowned slightly, like the response didn’t line up with what he expected. “Hey,” he said, not sharply, just enough to stop me. “It’s already yours.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“It’s not me buying you something,” he clarified. “It’s your stuff. We just haven’t picked it up yet.”

The tension didn’t disappear completely, but it shifted.

“Oh.”

I looked back down at the table, my fingers loosening slightly.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

Greg studied me for a second longer before nodding, like he understood more than I’d actually said.

“You ready to try the stairs?” he asked.

I glanced toward them, then back at him.

My chest tightened just slightly.

“…yeah,” I said.

The stairs looked bigger up close than they had from the couch, and for a moment I just stood there, my hand resting lightly against the wall as I tried to judge the distance. It wasn’t that many steps—I knew that—but knowing it and actually doing it felt like two completely different things. Greg didn’t rush me or step in, just stayed off to the side where I could see him if I needed to, close enough to help but not close enough to make it feel like he expected me to fail.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said. “One at a time.”

I nodded and reached for the railing, tightening my grip before lifting my foot onto the first step. The motion pulled sharper along my ribs than walking had, a reminder that I wasn’t anywhere near normal yet, but I shifted my weight carefully and brought my other foot up. The next step took longer, and the one after that even more, but after a few seconds I found a rhythm—slow, deliberate, making sure I was steady before moving again. My hand stayed firm on the railing while the other brushed the wall when I needed it, each step measured so I didn’t push too far too fast. Greg stayed just behind me the entire time without touching me, matching my pace without saying anything, letting me do it on my own.

By the time I reached the top, my breathing had picked up more than I wanted it to, and my legs felt heavier than they should have. I paused there with one hand still gripping the railing, focusing on steadying myself while the ache settled back into something manageable. Greg didn’t interrupt, just gave me the space to take that second before nodding down the hallway.

“This way.”

The upstairs felt different—quieter, but not empty. Just unfamiliar. A short hallway stretched ahead with a few closed doors and one slightly open, everything looking normal in a way that made it feel more real than anything else. I followed slowly, my hand finding the wall again out of habit, until Greg stopped in front of a closed door. He rested his hand on the handle and glanced back at me.

“This is yours.”

The words landed heavier than I expected. He didn’t build it up or say anything else, just opened the door and stepped back like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I stepped inside and stopped without meaning to. The room was bigger than I expected, but that wasn’t what held me there—it was the way everything was already set up. The bed was made, the dresser filled, a TV sitting on top with a game system underneath, a desk off to the side with a chair tucked neatly in. Nothing looked temporary. Nothing looked like it had been thrown together at the last minute. It looked like someone had taken the time to think about it, to plan it, to make it ready.

For me.

“You can pick out whatever you want,” Greg said after a moment, his voice easy, like there wasn’t anything unusual about this.

I blinked, forcing myself to move as I walked over to the dresser. When I opened the drawer, I paused again, staring at the neatly folded clothes inside—jeans, shirts, sweatshirts—more than I was used to having in one place. My hand hovered for a second before I picked out a pair of jeans, then glanced back at him.

“These okay?”

“If you like ’em, they’re okay,” he said.

I nodded, adding them to the small pile in my arms before choosing a sweatshirt, then socks, then underwear, each piece selected a little more carefully than it needed to be. It felt like I was supposed to get it right, even though I didn’t know what “right” actually meant here. When I was done, I looked back at him again, unsure.

“That good?”

“Looks like you’ve got it handled,” he said.

Something about that settled easier than it should have. I held onto the clothes a little tighter as we stepped back into the hallway, following him the short distance to the bathroom. He turned the water on and adjusted it before stepping back.

“I’ll let you get in,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

I nodded, and he left without hesitation, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

The bath helped more than I expected. The warmth sank into my muscles, easing the tightness from the stairs and the walk down the hall, loosening things just enough that I didn’t feel as stiff when I shifted. I stayed longer than I needed to, letting it settle, letting everything slow down again before finally reaching for the edge of the tub.

Getting out was different.

I sat there for a second, staring at the side, my confidence from earlier slipping just enough to make me hesitate. My legs still felt heavy, my balance not steady enough to trust without thinking about it, and the idea of slipping hit harder than it should have. I swallowed, tightening my grip on the edge before calling out.

“Greg?”

He was there almost immediately, the door opening just enough for him to step inside. “Yeah?”

“I don’t think I can get out by myself,” I admitted, quieter this time.

“Alright,” he said, like it wasn’t anything unusual. “I’ve got you.”

He moved closer without rushing, positioning himself so I could steady against him without feeling like I was being lifted or handled. “We’ll take it slow,” he added, keeping his tone even. “Same as before.”

I nodded and shifted forward carefully, letting him support just enough of my weight as I stepped out of the tub. My foot found the mat, then the next step followed, awkward and slow but controlled. I didn’t slip. I didn’t lose my balance. Once I was out, he guided me the short distance to a stool near the counter, making sure I was steady before stepping back.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” I said, catching my breath slightly.

“Alright,” he replied. “I’ll let you finish up.”

He didn’t linger or watch, just turned and left, closing the door behind him.

The quiet returned again, softer this time. I sat there for a second with the towel in my hands before starting to dry off, my movements still careful but more controlled than before. The clothes sat nearby, waiting, and I pulled them on one piece at a time, slower than normal but steady enough that I didn’t have to stop.

By the time I was done, the room didn’t feel quite as unfamiliar as it had a few minutes ago.

Not completely comfortable.

But not out of place either.

And that felt like something.

The trip back downstairs was easier than going up, though it still wasn’t something I could do without thinking. I took it one step at a time, my hand tight on the railing while the other brushed the wall when I needed it, making sure I didn’t rush anything. The pull in my ribs was still there, and my legs didn’t feel as steady as I wanted them to, but I didn’t hesitate as much this time. I didn’t stop halfway down.

Greg stayed just behind me again, close enough to step in if something went wrong, but he didn’t touch me or try to guide me. He just matched my pace, letting me do it on my own.

By the time I reached the bottom, my breathing had picked up, but not as bad as before. I moved toward the couch without thinking about it, lowering myself carefully onto it as the cushions sank under my weight. The tension in my legs eased almost immediately, and I let out a slow breath as I leaned back against the pillows.

Greg disappeared into the kitchen a moment later, the familiar sounds of cabinets and drawers filling the space again. It was becoming something I recognized without needing to look—movement that didn’t mean anything bad was about to happen. Just normal.

I reached toward the table beside me and picked up the book without really thinking about it, flipping it open to where I’d left off. It didn’t take long before the words started pulling me back in, the rest of the room fading into the background as I read.

“Whatcha reading?”

His voice cut through it, not loud, but enough to pull me out of the page. I looked up, holding the book loosely in my hands.

“It’s called The Touch,” I said, turning it slightly so he could see the cover. “Natalie gave it to me.”

Greg stepped a little closer, leaning just enough to read it properly. Something in his expression shifted almost immediately—not bad, just recognition.

“Huh,” he said quietly. “Didn’t expect to see that here.”

I frowned slightly. “What?”

He nodded toward the book. “That’s written by a guy I know. David Montgomery.”

I blinked, glancing back down at the cover before looking up at him again. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” Greg said, straightening a bit. “He’s one of my clients. Been working with him for a few years now.”

I looked at the book again, something about it feeling different now that I knew that. “He’s… famous?”

Greg let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Depends who you ask,” he said. “He’s done pretty well for himself. Especially with the Legends of Blood series.”

I stared at him for a second. “That’s real?”

“Very real,” Greg said, a small grin pulling at his mouth. “Books, signings, press tours—the whole thing.”

I looked back down at the book again, my fingers tightening slightly along the edge of the cover. “He wrote this?”

Greg nodded, but this time his expression shifted again, quieter.

“Yeah,” he said. “He wrote that one a few years back.”

There was a brief pause before he added, “After his son went missing.”

The words landed heavier than anything else he’d said.

My grip tightened without me realizing it, my eyes dropping back to the page even though I wasn’t reading anymore. “What?”

Greg leaned back slightly against the wall, his tone more measured now. “Happened about ten years ago. Kid just… disappeared. No real answers.”

I swallowed, staring down at the book in my hands. “He wrote this after that?”

“Yeah,” Greg said. “From what he told me, it was his way of reaching out. Hoping that if his son was out there somewhere, maybe he’d find it. Recognize something. Come back.”

The words settled into something heavy in my chest.

I stared at the page, but I wasn’t seeing it anymore.

“Did they ever find him?” I asked quietly.

Greg shook his head. “No,” he said. “But they never stopped looking.”

Silence followed that, stretching out in a way that didn’t feel forced. I didn’t say anything else. I just sat there, holding the book a little tighter than before, my thoughts stuck somewhere between the words on the page and what Greg had just told me.

After a moment, Greg pushed himself off the wall and started toward the kitchen again, like he could tell I needed the space without me having to say it.

“I’m gonna throw together some lunch,” he said as he reached the doorway, his tone easing back into something more casual. “Nothing fancy.”

I nodded, my attention still on the book even though I wasn’t reading.

He paused for a second before adding, “After we eat, we’ll head down to the office and pick up your laptop. My IT guy should have it set up by now.”

That made me glance up.

Something about the way he said it—like it had already been taken care of, like it was just another normal thing—settled differently than I expected. My fingers tightened slightly against the cover again before I nodded.

“Okay.”

Greg gave a small nod back before disappearing into the kitchen, the quiet sounds of movement starting up again a moment later.

I looked back down at the book in my hands, tracing the title lightly with my thumb.

The Touch.

It didn’t feel like just a story anymore.

The drive felt shorter than I expected, even though I spent most of it staring out the window.

The world moved faster out there than it did from the couch, buildings replacing houses as we got closer to downtown, everything feeling louder and more crowded even from inside the car. I didn’t say much, just watched it pass by while Greg drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the console. Every now and then, he glanced over at me, not asking anything, just checking.

It didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Just… different.

When the car finally stopped, I took a little more focus getting out than it should have, my body slower to respond as I steadied myself once my feet hit the ground. The pavement felt solid, but I didn’t move right away, letting myself adjust before taking a step forward. Greg stayed close without hovering as we made our way toward the building, his pace easy enough that I didn’t have to rush.

The glass doors reflected us back for a second before he pulled one open, and I stepped inside after him.

The office was quieter than I expected. Not silent—but controlled. Phones rang somewhere in the distance, voices stayed low and steady, and the soft tapping of keyboards filled in the rest. Everything felt organized in a way that made it seem like it all had a purpose.

I stayed close without really thinking about it.

“Afternoon, Mr. Harris,” someone called from behind a desk near the front.

Greg lifted a hand in acknowledgment as we passed. “Hey, Lisa.”

Her eyes shifted to me briefly, softening just a little. “You must be Zachary,” she said.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I said quietly.

Greg didn’t stop walking, but his pace adjusted just enough that I didn’t fall behind as we moved deeper into the office. A few people glanced up as we passed, offering small nods or quiet greetings, nothing that lingered long enough to feel uncomfortable.

Then one of them leaned back in his chair, looking directly at Greg.

“Well, well,” he said. “What happened to you?”

I glanced up at Greg instinctively.

Greg didn’t even break stride. “Kid’s got a mean right hook,” he said, jerking his thumb back toward me. “Could be a boxer if he wanted to.”

Heat crept up my face immediately, and I looked down, my fingers tightening slightly at my side.

The man grinned, clearly entertained. “Yeah? Then you might want to work on your defense,” he shot back. “Dodging’s usually part of the job.”

Greg huffed out a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it, quiet but real. I ducked my head slightly, not used to the sound coming from me, but it didn’t feel wrong.

“Nice to meet you, kid,” the man added.

I nodded quickly. “You too.”

We kept moving after that, the sound of his chuckle fading behind us as Greg led me down a quieter hallway. He stopped at a door near the end and pushed it open, motioning for me to step inside.

“This is mine.”

I walked in slowly, taking in the space without really knowing what I was looking for. The office wasn’t cluttered—just a desk, a couple of chairs, shelves lined neatly with files, and a few framed things that made it feel lived in without being crowded. It matched everything else.

Organized. Intentional.

“Go ahead and sit,” Greg added, nodding toward the chair across from his desk. “No need to stand around.”

I hesitated for a second before moving toward it, lowering myself carefully into the seat. The relief hit almost immediately once I was off my feet, and I settled back slightly, adjusting without drawing attention to it.

Greg moved behind the desk and picked up the phone like it was part of his normal routine. “Hang on a second,” he said. “Hey, you got it ready?”

He paused, listening, then nodded. “Perfect. Bring it in.”

He hung up and glanced back at me. “IT’s bringing your laptop down.”

I nodded, my hands resting lightly in my lap as I looked around the room again.

A minute later, there was a knock before the door opened and another man stepped in, holding a laptop bag.

“This the famous client?” he asked, lifting it slightly.

“That’s him,” Greg said.

The man walked over and handed it directly to me instead of Greg. I hesitated before taking it, my hands tightening slightly around the strap as the weight settled there. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like it was.

Important.

“It’s all set up,” he added. “Wi-Fi’s saved, basic stuff installed. If you break it, though, that’s on you.”

I blinked.

Then glanced at Greg.

“He’s kidding,” Greg said.

The man grinned. “Mostly.”

A small, uncertain breath slipped out of me, not quite a laugh, but close.

“Jeff,” he added, handing me a card. “I’m the IT guy. If you’ve got any issues, or you need help figuring something out, just reach out.”

I shifted the bag slightly so I could take the card, careful not to drop either. “Okay… thank you.”

“Seriously,” Jeff said, his tone easy. “Anything you need.”

I nodded, glancing down at the card before tucking it carefully into my pocket. “I will.”

“Alright,” he said, giving a small nod. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Appreciate it,” Greg added.

Jeff stepped out, closing the door behind him, and the room settled into a quieter kind of silence again.

I sat there holding the laptop bag, my grip tighter than it needed to be, the strap looped securely in my hand like I didn’t trust it not to slip. It didn’t feel like something I should just set down or treat normally. It felt like something that could be taken back if I wasn’t careful.

Greg moved to his computer and sat down, the screen lighting up as he started checking through something. “Give me a few minutes,” he said. “Just need to go through some emails.”

I nodded, even though he wasn’t really looking at me anymore.

The quiet filled with the soft rhythm of typing, steady and consistent. I shifted slightly in the chair, adjusting my hold on the bag, my fingers tightening and loosening against the strap without realizing it.

After a minute, Greg glanced up.

His eyes dropped to the way I was holding it, then back to my face, something faintly amused settling in.

“You know,” he said, leaning back slightly in his chair, “it’s not gonna break.”

I looked down at it again, my grip tightening automatically.

“I know,” I said quietly.

But I didn’t let go.

He watched me for a second longer, his expression shifting just slightly, like he understood more than I’d actually said.

“I’ve never had a computer before,” I admitted after a moment, my voice quieter now, like saying it out loud made it more real.

The words sat there for a second.

Greg didn’t react right away. He didn’t laugh or make it into something bigger than it was.

He just nodded once.

“Well,” he said, his tone steady, “you’ve got one now.”

I nodded slowly, my fingers easing just slightly against the strap, though I still held onto it.

The weight of it stayed there in my hands.

Not heavy.

Just… different.

And for the first time—

it didn’t feel like something I needed to give back.

The front door opened with a quiet click, and the familiar warmth of the house settled in around us as soon as we stepped inside. It felt different coming back this time, not as tense as before, not like I had to figure out where I fit the second I walked in.

Greg closed the door behind us and glanced over at me. “First thing,” he said, nodding toward the kitchen. “Meds.”

I nodded, already expecting it.

The routine didn’t feel strange anymore. I moved toward the counter while he grabbed the bottle and a glass of water, setting both down in front of me without needing to say anything else. I took them quietly, swallowing the pills and chasing them with a drink before setting the glass back down.

“Good,” he said simply, like it was just another normal part of the day.

Then his eyes shifted to the bag still in my hand, and a small smile tugged at his expression. “You wanna check it out?”

I looked down at the laptop bag, my grip tightening just slightly before I nodded.

“Yeah.”

The word came out a little quicker than I meant it to.

Greg noticed, but he didn’t say anything about it. He just motioned toward the stairs. “Alright. Let’s go upstairs.”

The steps were still slow, but easier than before. I didn’t have to stop this time, just took them one at a time, my hand steady on the railing as we made our way up. Greg stayed close behind me again, not touching, just there.

By the time we reached my room, my breathing had picked up slightly, but it settled quicker than it had earlier. I stepped inside first this time, moving toward the desk without really thinking about it.

Greg followed, shutting the door partway behind him. “Go ahead,” he said, nodding toward the bag.

I hesitated for half a second before setting it down on the desk, my hands lingering on it like I wasn’t sure I should let go completely.

“You’re not gonna break it,” Greg said lightly as he stepped closer.

“I know,” I muttered, even though my fingers were still careful as I unzipped it.

He didn’t rush me. Just stood nearby as I slowly pulled the laptop out, holding it like it weighed more than it actually did. Greg stepped in then, helping guide it onto the desk so it sat flat and secure.

“There you go,” he said.

He moved over to the bed and sat down, giving me space while still staying close enough to help. “Alright,” he added, nodding toward it. “Go ahead and open it.”

I did, slower than I needed to, my hands careful as I lifted the screen.

“Power button’s right there,” Greg said, pointing.

I pressed it, watching as the screen lit up for the first time. It took a second, then another, before everything loaded in, the desktop appearing in front of me.

Something about it made my chest feel tight again.

Not bad.

Just… a lot.

Greg talked me through it without overwhelming me, keeping things simple as he pointed things out. Where the games were, how to open them, what icons meant what. He didn’t rush through it, didn’t expect me to remember everything right away.

“Jeff already set most of it up,” he said. “Made it easy to get around.”

I nodded, my eyes moving across the screen as I followed what he was saying.

“He also child-proofed it,” Greg added casually. “So you’re not gonna accidentally end up somewhere you shouldn’t.”

I glanced back at him, a little confused.

“Just means you’re not gonna run into anything… adult,” he clarified. “It’s filtered.”

“Oh.”

I looked back at the screen, nodding slightly.

“That’s… good.”

He gave a small nod. “Figured it would be.”

He showed me where to find videos next, how to search for things, how to click through without getting lost. Then he moved on again, pointing out where the music was.

“What do you usually listen to?” he asked.

I hesitated.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, my eyes dropping slightly.

“…I don’t really know a lot,” I admitted. Then, quieter, “I like piano stuff.”

Greg tilted his head slightly. “Yeah?”

I shrugged, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “Like… classical. I guess.”

There was a pause.

Then Greg nodded like that was the most normal answer in the world. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “That’s good stuff.”

The tension eased a little.

He leaned forward slightly, pointing at the search bar. “Try typing something like ‘classical piano’ or a composer’s name if you know one. It’ll pull up stations, playlists, all that.”

I nodded, doing exactly what he said, watching as options started to appear.

“There you go,” he said. “You can click around, see what you like.”

He didn’t stay over my shoulder. After a few more minutes of showing me the basics, he leaned back again.

“I’m gonna go take care of a couple calls,” he said, pushing himself up from the bed. “You’re good up here?”

I nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Holler if you need anything.”

Then he left, pulling the door mostly closed behind him.

The room felt quieter after that.

Not empty.

Just… mine.

I looked back at the screen, my fingers moving a little more confidently now as I clicked through the music options. It didn’t take long before something familiar caught my eye.

Let It Be.

I hesitated for a second before clicking it.

The music started softly, filling the room in a way that didn’t feel overwhelming. I adjusted the volume, lowering it until it sat just under everything else, something I could hear without it taking over.

Then I clicked it again.

And again.

Letting it loop.

I reached over and grabbed the book from the nightstand before moving to the bed, settling down carefully against the pillows. The mattress dipped under my weight, softer than the couch, easier to sink into as I adjusted.

The music played quietly in the background as I opened the book, finding my place again.

This time, it was easier to focus.

The words pulled me in again, slower at first, then steadier, the story blending with the soft rhythm of the song repeating in the background.

At some point, I shifted slightly, the book lowering just a little as my eyes started to feel heavier.

I didn’t fight it.

The music kept playing.

The room stayed quiet.

And before I realized it—

I drifted off.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been asleep until something pulled me up from it.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Natalie’s voice came first—soft, close enough that it didn’t startle me, but enough to bring me out of the fog of sleep. My eyes opened slowly, the room dimmer than it had been before, and for a second I just lay there staring at the ceiling while everything settled back into place. Then I shifted slightly, pushing myself up, my body protesting faintly but not enough to stop me.

“What time is it?” I asked, my voice still rough.

“Just about seven,” she said. “I brought pizza home.”

I blinked at that, the words taking a second to land. “I’ve… never had pizza before,” I admitted.

That made her pause, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something warmer. “Then we’ll see what you think of it,” she said, her tone light but gentle.

She studied me for a second longer. “Are you hungry?”

Before I could answer, my stomach growled loudly enough to make me freeze. Natalie laughed softly, the sound easy and unforced.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

A faint flush crept into my face, and I looked down, shifting slightly on the bed. Her gaze softened as she glanced around the room, taking in the bed, the desk, everything.

“I’m really glad you felt comfortable enough to sleep up here,” she added.

I hesitated, my eyes drifting briefly across the space before settling again. “…yeah,” I said quietly.

She nodded, then her attention shifted toward the desk. Her head tilted slightly as she listened, and I followed her gaze a second later. The music was still playing—soft, steady, looping in the background—and my stomach dropped.

“Oh—” I sat up a little straighter. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave it on. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that—I can turn it off—”

“Hey,” Natalie said gently, cutting in before I could move. I stilled immediately.

“I didn’t even hear it until I came in here,” she said, her tone calm and steady. “You’re okay.”

I hesitated, my fingers tightening slightly against the blanket. “Sorry,” I muttered again, quieter this time.

She didn’t push it, just gave a small, reassuring smile before nodding toward the desk. “You might want to plug it in, though,” she added. “Otherwise it’ll die on you overnight.”

I glanced back at it, then nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll head downstairs,” she said, stepping back toward the door. “Come down when you’re ready.”

“Alright.”

She gave me one last look before leaving, the door closing softly behind her. The room settled into quiet again, and I sat there for a second before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing. I moved slower than I would have before but steady enough, crossing to the desk to plug the charger in carefully. I watched for a second to make sure it was actually connected before stepping back.

After that, I made my way into the bathroom. The mirror caught me off guard, my blonde hair sticking out in different directions, flattened in some places and uneven in others from sleeping on it. I frowned slightly and ran my hands over it, trying to smooth it down, but it didn’t help. I tried again, pressing it flatter, but it just shifted somewhere else. After a second, I let my hands drop and stared at it a moment longer before turning away.

It wasn’t fixing itself.

The walk downstairs felt easier than before, even if I still took it slow, my hand brushing the railing as I went. Voices carried up from the kitchen before I even reached the bottom, Greg and Natalie talking in low, steady tones.

“I’ll call the school tomorrow,” Natalie was saying. “Make sure everything’s ready for Friday.”

“That’ll help,” Greg replied.

“I’ll take the day off so I can bring him in and get everything handled,” she continued.

“That works,” Greg said. “I can use the time to catch up at the office.”

I stepped into the room then, and both of them looked over. “There he is,” Greg said.

“Perfect timing,” Natalie added.

The smell hit me almost immediately, stronger than before, and I hesitated for just a second before moving toward the table. The box sat open in the middle, slices already laid out on plates. I sat down carefully, my attention fixed on it.

“This is pizza,” Greg said, like he already knew what I was thinking.

I nodded slowly.

“Go ahead,” Natalie said gently.

I reached for a slice, hesitating only for a second before taking a bite. The taste hit immediately—warm, salty, different from anything I’d had before. I chewed slowly at first, then a little faster, my grip tightening slightly on the crust. It was good. Really good. I didn’t say anything, but I took another bite, and then another.

Across from me, Greg and Natalie exchanged a quick glance, both of them smiling slightly before returning to their own food. The conversation picked up again, easy and natural, not forced or careful.

After a moment, Natalie looked back at me. “So, do you like your laptop?”

I glanced up, a small flush creeping into my face. “Yeah,” I said quickly. “It’s… nice.”

Her smile softened. “I’m glad.”

She leaned back slightly. “And how was your first trip to Greg’s office?”

I hesitated, then glanced toward him. “There was a guy,” I said slowly, “that made fun of him.”

Greg let out a quiet breath, already knowing.

Natalie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

I nodded. “He said he should learn how to dodge better.”

There was a brief pause before both of them laughed. “Yeah,” Greg said, shaking his head, “that sounds about right.”

“I’m sure Greg deserved it,” Natalie added lightly.

“I did not,” Greg muttered.

A small smile slipped onto my face as I looked back down at my plate, taking another bite. The conversation didn’t stop after that. It just kept going, easy and steady, moving around me instead of past me this time. I listened, eating slowly, taking in the words without feeling like I had to disappear into the background.

For once, it felt like I was allowed to be there.