Chapter Text
Gabby wakes before her alarm because she always does. The house has a different sound at five in the morning, a low mechanical hum that settles into the walls before anyone else is conscious enough to disturb it. She lies still for a moment and listens for movement down the hallway, not tense, just calibrating. When she hears nothing beyond the refrigerator cycling and the faint whir of the HVAC, she reaches for her phone, silences the alarm before it can vibrate, and slides out of bed. Dani rolls slightly into the warm space she leaves behind but does not wake.
In the kitchen, Gabby fills her water bottle, stretches her calves against the counter edge, and glances automatically toward the hallway. Eli’s door is cracked three inches, the hallway light still glowing softly the way it has all night. She leaves it alone. She laces her running shoes slowly so the eyelets do not click, grabs her keys, and steps outside into the cold air without turning on the porch light.
Her runs are not dramatic or meditative. They are mechanical and steady. She times her breathing against her stride and thinks through small variables in the day ahead. Dr. Patel is coming at four. Dani has a brand call at noon. Olivia has math tutoring after school. Eli tolerated dimmer light for about twenty seconds last night before signing for more. Gabby turns the corner at the end of the block and adjusts her pace slightly, calculating how much time she has before Eli wakes up and notices the house is missing one of its anchors.
When she gets back, sweat cooling at her neck, the front door is unlocked.
She steps inside quietly and hears the show before she sees him. The same episode. Same opening music. Low volume. Eli is already on the couch with his tablet propped against his knees. He is not wearing his headphones. He is rocking forward and back, forward and back, humming under the dialogue in a pitch that blends with the background score.
Gabby sets her keys down. “Morning.”
He does not look up, but he taps the side of the couch twice. Pause. Twice again.
She nods as if he has made eye contact. “I’m going to shower.”
He hums a little louder for a second and then settles.
Olivia appears in the hallway five minutes later, hair still tangled from sleep, dragging her backpack behind her even though it is not packed yet. She squints at the tablet. “It’s the same one again.”
Eli rocks. Taps the couch once.
“I know,” she says, not unkindly. “I’m just saying.”
Gabby comes back into the kitchen with wet hair pulled into a low tie and starts the coffee maker. She moves through the space without sharp movements, opening cabinets carefully, pulling out the same cereal bowl Olivia prefers and setting it on the counter before Olivia even asks.
“You have tutoring today,” Gabby says.
“I know,” Olivia replies. “Can you come this time instead of Mom?”
Gabby looks over. “Why.”
Olivia shrugs and pours cereal. “I just want you to.”
“Okay,” Gabby says. “I can adjust.”
Dani walks in wearing one of Gabby’s old college sweatshirts, hair piled loosely on top of her head, phone already in her hand. She leans down and kisses Olivia’s temple, then walks over to the couch and drops into a crouch beside Eli.
“Good morning,” she says softly.
He leans sideways immediately and presses his shoulder into her chest without looking away from the tablet. Dani adjusts her balance and lets him climb halfway into her lap. He sits upright, not curled, rocking slightly against her sternum. She wraps one arm around his middle, firm enough that he feels the containment but not so tight that he pulls away.
“You’re up early,” she says.
He hums.
Gabby pours coffee and watches the hallway light out of habit. It is still on. The daylight coming through the windows has started to dilute it, but Eli has not signed for it to be turned off yet, so it stays.
“Brand call at twelve,” Dani says over Eli’s head. “They want more candid home stuff.”
Gabby nods once. “Okay.”
Dani glances at her. “Okay like okay or okay like you hate it.”
“Okay like we can keep it normal,” Gabby says. “No scripting.”
“I don’t script,” Dani replies, a little defensive but smiling.
Gabby looks at her over the rim of her mug. “You rehearse.”
Dani laughs quietly and presses her nose briefly into Eli’s hair. He reaches back and hooks his fingers into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. She does not move.
Olivia finishes her cereal and stands up. “He’s going to want nuggets for lunch again.”
Gabby shrugs. “Yes.”
“That’s all he eats,” Olivia says.
“He eats other things,” Dani replies automatically.
“Like what.”
Dani opens her mouth, pauses, then closes it again. “Okay. For lunch he eats nuggets.”
Eli shifts in Dani’s lap and suddenly slides off, tablet clutched tight. He lands on his feet, jumps once in place, then runs down the hallway toward his room. His humming spikes in volume.
Gabby sets her mug down immediately but does not chase. She listens. There is no crash. No distress noise. Just movement. The rhythm of his steps is fast but not chaotic.
Olivia looks toward the hallway. “What’s he doing.”
“Energy,” Gabby says.
Eli reappears seconds later with his headphones in one hand and the small flashlight he keeps in his drawer in the other. He runs back into the living room, drops onto the rug, and begins jumping in place while holding the flashlight pointed at the ceiling. The beam wobbles in uneven arcs across the plaster.
Dani watches him carefully. “Okay, big body,” she says evenly.
He jumps harder.
Gabby steps forward and widens her stance slightly. Eli runs straight into her legs and pushes with both palms. Hard.
She braces automatically.
“Again,” she says calmly.
He pushes again, breath coming faster now, humming breaking into short bursts between exhales. He drops the flashlight without noticing and presses his forehead into her thigh.
Gabby kneels without comment. “You need help,” she says, not a question.
He pulls back just enough to sign, quick and tight, help.
She nods once and opens her arms. He steps in and wraps both arms around her waist, squeezing with full force. She matches the pressure evenly and keeps her feet planted. Dani moves quietly behind them and places one steady hand between Eli’s shoulder blades.
Olivia stands by the table watching, backpack hanging off one shoulder. “Is he okay.”
“He’s fine,” Dani says without looking up. “He just woke up fast.”
Eli’s breathing slows. The humming smooths out into one long note. After maybe thirty seconds, he releases Gabby abruptly and scoops up his tablet again like nothing happened.
Gabby stands and brushes her hands down her leggings. “Shoes,” she says to Olivia.
Olivia rolls her eyes but bends to tie them. “You’re coming to tutoring,” she reminds Gabby.
“I said I would.”
Dani checks the time on her phone and exhales. “Okay. I need ten minutes before I look human.”
“You look fine,” Gabby says.
Dani narrows her eyes. “That was not convincing.”
Eli walks back toward the hallway, stops, and turns. He signs light.
Gabby nods. “You want it off.”
He nods once.
She walks over and switches off the hallway light without ceremony. The morning sun has fully taken over now. The shadow edges soften naturally.
Eli watches the space where the light had been for a moment, then turns back to his show.
Olivia shoulders her backpack. “Bye,” she says, already halfway to the door.
Dani kisses the top of her head in passing. “Text me if tutoring runs long.”
Gabby grabs her keys again, this time not for a run but for the school drop-off loop she has done hundreds of times. She pauses briefly by the couch and rests her hand against Eli’s shin. He presses back without looking away from the screen.
“I’ll be back,” she says.
He taps the couch twice. Pause. Twice again.
She leaves.
The house shifts but does not lose balance.
It is later than either of them meant for it to be. The house is finally still. Olivia’s door is closed, the faint sound of her desk chair shifting every so often through the wall. Eli’s door is cracked the usual three inches, hallway light dimmed but not off.
The monitor on Dani’s nightstand shows a grainy black-and-white image of him on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow, tablet dark but within reach.
Gabby is sitting on the edge of the bed unlacing her shoes slowly, even though she has already showered. It is something to do with her hands. Dani is propped up against the headboard scrolling through comments on her phone, the blue light reflecting faintly against the wall.
“Don’t read them right now,” Gabby says without turning around.
“I’m not,” Dani replies automatically.
Gabby glances back at her.
“Okay, I am,” Dani admits, tossing the phone onto the comforter beside her. “They want more ‘real.’ Which is funny, because when it’s real they say it’s too much.”
Gabby finishes with her laces and sets the shoes neatly beside the dresser. “Then don’t give them more.”
“It’s my job,” Dani says, not defensive, just tired.
Gabby stands and crosses the room, sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Your job is acting.”
“And influencing,” Dani adds.
Gabby exhales through her nose. “Influencing what.”
Dani gives her a look. “You know what.”
There is a small pause. The air between them is not tense, just layered.
“I don’t want Eli online,” Gabby says plainly.
“I know.”
“And I don’t want his hard days online.”
“I know,” Dani repeats, softer.
Gabby leans back against the headboard, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m not saying you can’t talk about motherhood. I just don’t want him framed as content.”
Dani folds her arms loosely. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t on purpose.”
That lands. Dani looks at her hands instead of responding immediately.
“I’m careful,” she says after a moment.
“I know you are.”
Silence again, but not sharp. The kind that comes when both people are thinking at the same time.
Dani reaches over and rests her hand on Gabby’s thigh. “He signed before it got big tonight.”
“Yeah.”
“You saw it too.”
“I did.”
Dani’s thumb moves absently against the fabric of Gabby’s pajama pants. “I still feel like I’m waiting for something to go wrong all the time.”
Gabby turns her head toward her. “That’s because you anticipate everything out loud.”
Dani snorts quietly. “And you don’t.”
“I anticipate,” Gabby says. “I just don’t narrate it.”
“That’s worse sometimes.”
Gabby considers that. “Maybe.”
Dani leans her head sideways until it rests against Gabby’s shoulder. It is not dramatic. Just contact. “When he came into our room last night, I thought it was going to be a whole thing.”
“It wasn’t.”
“No,” Dani agrees. “It wasn’t.”
Gabby shifts slightly so Dani’s weight settles more comfortably against her. “He needed light. He asked. We gave it.”
Dani nods once. “You always make it sound simple.”
“It is simple,” Gabby replies. “It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”
Dani is quiet for a long moment. “Do you ever feel like we’re doing too much.”
Gabby doesn’t answer right away. She reaches over and picks up Dani’s phone, turning it face down on the nightstand.
“No,” she says finally. “I feel like we’re doing what works.”
“And if it stops working.”
“Then we adjust.”
Dani lets out a slow breath. “You and your physics.”
Gabby’s mouth twitches slightly. “Force meets resistance.”
Dani laughs under her breath. “That’s not romantic.”
“It’s accurate.”
Dani shifts, pulling her legs up and tucking them under Gabby’s thigh so she is half turned toward her. “I don’t want Olivia to feel like she has to be the easy one.”
“She won’t,” Gabby says.
“How do you know.”
“Because we don’t let her.”
Dani studies her face, looking for hesitation. There isn’t any.
“You’re very sure of things,” Dani says.
“I’m sure of you,” Gabby replies, almost absently.
That catches Dani off guard more than anything else tonight. She straightens slightly. “You are.”
“Yes.”
There is no elaboration. Gabby does not decorate her words.
Dani leans forward and kisses her once, slow and unhurried. Not urgent. Not symbolic. Just contact. Gabby’s hand comes up automatically to Dani’s waist, steadying her there.
From the monitor, there is a faint rustle. Both of them glance toward it at the same time.
Eli shifts onto his back but does not wake.
They wait a few seconds anyway.
When the room stays quiet, Dani settles back against Gabby’s shoulder again. “You’re going to tutoring tomorrow.”
“I said I would.”
“She likes when you come.”
Gabby nods once. “I know.”
Dani reaches for the lamp and dims it slightly. “Two squeezes tomorrow night before the light changes.”
“Two,” Gabby agrees.
They sit there a little longer, not talking, listening to the house the way they always do before sleep. Eventually Dani slides down under the covers and pulls Gabby with her. The hallway light stays on.