Page 70 of Ripple Effect

“No, he’s Toto,” she says, nose wrinkled, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.

Elio lifts a hand up to her level, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Alright, tonight he can be whoever you want him to be. Toto or the lion.”

June giggles, her laughter infectious, causing both Elio and me to join in. Moments like this—so intimate, so domestic—feel like stolen fragments of what could be. A glimpse of a picture-perfect future.

“Think Toto wants to hop in your basket, Junebug?” Elio asks.

“Only if he fits,” June says, her tone so gravely serious it makes us all snort with laughter.

“Right, well, I think we’re out of luck there.” He taps the tops of her ruby-red slippers. “So, you think you’re ready to head inside?”

“Yup!” she all but shouts. “Go, go, go!”

Together, we venture into the entrance of the makeshift maze. It’s well done, filled with glowing ghosts that bob in the air, cackling witches that stir cauldrons, and goblins lurking behind faux gravestones. But the spooky creatures are more delightful than dreadful, every turn revealing something new and surprising.

Before long, there’s a gentle tug of Elio’s hand on mine, pulling me closer when June gets excited, kicking her little feet against his chest. I want to ask him to put her down, to take it easy on his mending heart, but I have to trust that he knows his own limits.

And that he can remember to enforce them while honed in on his favorite niece.

As we move away from the maze and continue our quest, I can’t help but notice the quiet moments between us—a lingering touch, a knowing smile, our shared laughter when June does something endearing.

At one house, a gangly teenager kneels before her, offering the candy bowl. “Pick your favorite, Dorothy.”

June’s eyes, wide and innocent, dart between the candy and her uncle. “Ello, what should I pick?”

He squats down to her level, bringing his face close as if they were about to discuss a grave secret. “Get the peanut butter cups. Your dad doesn’t like them, so you won’t have to share.”

Her eyes light up, and she eagerly snatches the bright orange package, offering a whispered “Thank you” to the Jedi.

We continue along as the night fades, passing gaggles of trick-or-treaters. Our bags grow impossibly heavy with treats, and June’s energy finally wanes. One final stop stands between us and our return back to Luca and Harper’s home. This place is grander than most, its entrance guarded by a duo of flaming torches.

June hesitates, gazing up with trepidation. But Elio, ever the protector, nudges her forward. “Last one, Junebug. So, let’s make it count.”

With newfound determination, she marches up to the door, the rest of us trailing closely behind. The door opens to reveal a kindly old woman with silver hair, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “My, what a sweet Dorothy we have here.”

“Thank you,” June chirps as she accepts a few handfuls of candy, and the woman offers a friendly smile to the rest of us.

“Such a perfect little family,” she says, gaze flitting over the group. “Would you like me to take a picture?”

The woman clearly believes that we’re June’s parents, and my cheeks heat at her assumption. Memories of my own family drift into my thoughts: the distance with my sister that’s grown over time, not just physical but emotional, the fading phone calls with my parents that were never really frequent to begin with.

I love them all, of course I do, but it’s a love tethered by blood and old memories, not by regular heart-to-heart conversations or shared laughter over dinner tables.

Here, however, with Elio, June, and my new friends at Coastal, I feel a burgeoning sense of home. Not just the place where you sleep but where you’re loved, where you belong, where you’re needed.

I open my mouth, ready to correct her, but Elio steps forward instead.

“Thank you,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “We’d love a photo.”

For a moment, I’m struck by the ease with which he embraces the idea. But as we gather closer together, with June’s little arms wrapped around both of our waists and Bentley sitting proudly at our feet, it feels like the most perfect moment to capture for eternity.

Because no matter what happens between us in the future, I know it’s one I’m not likely to forget.

27

ELIO

The moodin the apartment is heavy, punctuated by the sounds of zippers closing and soft sighs. It’s Tuesday morning, and the reality that Daisy’s finally leaving brings a bitter taste.

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