Page 79 of The Silence Between

Somethingsmall and cold pressed against my cheek, startling me awake. I blinked in confusion, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. The narrow balcony. Metal railing digging into my back in places I didn't know could hurt. Leo's jacket spread over me like a blanket. And Sophie standing before me, holding a mug of coffee and studying me with unabashed curiosity like I was an interesting zoo exhibit.

“Leo said you might still be here,” she announced matter-of-factly. “He had to make breakfast but said you should have coffee when you woke up.”

I accepted the mug, embarrassment flooding through me as I realized I'd fallen asleep on their balcony like some kind of literary hobo. “Thank you, Sophie. I didn't mean to stay all night.”

She shrugged, utterly unconcerned by my presence. “Leo says people need rest where they can find it. Want breakfast? We have eggs.”

The casual invitation, clearly approved by Leo given the coffee delivery, represented significant evolution from our previous careful separation. I stood, stretching cramped muscles that screamed in protest, and followed Sophie through the window into the apartment itself.

Leo stood at the stove, wearing yesterday's clothes and sporting impressive bedhead, but somehow still managing to look more put-together than I felt after sleeping sitting up against a metal railing. He glanced up as I entered, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he returned to flipping pancakes.

“Morning,” he said, casual as if finding me asleep on his balcony were an everyday occurrence. “Hope you like omelettes.”

“I... yes. Thank you.” I hovered awkwardly, uncertain of my place in this domestic scene. “I should probably go, though. You have the inspection today, and I'm just in the way.”

“You're not in the way,” Mari said, appearing from what I assumed was the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel. “And Leo made enough pancakes to feed a small army, so you might as well help eat them.”

I caught the significant look that passed between Mari and Leo, some silent sibling communication I couldn't interpret but that clearly related to my unexpected presence. Diego emerged from a bedroom, eyes widening slightly at finding me in their kitchen but recovering quickly.

“Mr. Webb,” he greeted, sliding into a chair at the table. “Are you helping with the inspection stuff?”

“I... no. Just visiting,” I managed, taking the cup of coffee Sophie had delivered earlier and sipping to hide my discomfort. The coffee was good. Like, surprisingly good. Not the budget brand I'd expected.

“Eat before it gets cold,” Leo instructed, placing a stack of pancakes in the center of the table with the efficient movements of someone who had coordinated family meals for years. “Everyone has to be out by 9:30. Inspector comes at 10:00.”

The simple inclusion in their morning routine created disorienting sense of belonging I hadn't expected. I watched their interactions through breakfast, witnessing family dynamics invisible in our previous encounters.

Mari functioned as clear second-in-command, directing Diego to grab napkins while helping Sophie find her missing art project folder. Diego maintained typical teenage surliness but responded to Leo's quiet requests without argument. Sophie chattered about her art class, occasionally directing questions to me about books she'd been reading for my class.

And Leo orchestrated it all, ensuring everyone had what they needed while reviewing their schedules for the day, reminding Mari about a financial aid deadline, confirming Diego's therapy appointment time, double-checking that Sophie had her permission slip for tomorrow's field trip.

It was beautiful and a little heartbreaking. As we finished eating, Leo caught my eye across the table, something vulnerable and questioning in his expression.

“We should talk about next steps for the Townsend situation later,” he said, the practical focus creating framework for continued connection while maintaining emotional safety through external focus.

“Whenever you're ready,” I agreed, understanding the unspoken boundaries.

As I prepared to leave, Sophie unexpectedly hugged me, her small arms wrapping around my waist with unguarded affection I hadn't earned but desperately wanted to deserve.

“Thanks for helping with Dad yesterday,” she said simply. “Leo was scared even though he pretended not to be.”

The observation, piercing in its childlike directness, created complicated tangle of emotions I couldn't immediately process. Leo quickly redirected her toward gathering her backpack, but the moment lingered between us as I headed toward the door.

“Thank you,” I said quietly when we had a moment alone in the narrow entryway. “For the coffee. The pancakes. For letting me stay.”

“Thank you for being here,” he replied, the simple acknowledgment carrying weight beyond practical assistance.

I left with the strange sensation of crossing a threshold I hadn't realized existed—not just physical entrance into Leo's home but invitation into the heart of what mattered most to him. As I walked toward my car in the morning sunlight, I felt lighter than I had in months, maybe years. Like I'd shed some weight I didn't know I was carrying.

* * *

The faculty loungebuzzed with morning conversation as I gathered allies to address Townsend's increasingly transparent targeting of non-traditional families. Marcus arrived with coffee for everyone, his expression shifting from surprise to understanding when he noticed my unchanged clothes from yesterday.

“Rough night?” he asked quietly, handing me a cup.

“Eventful,” I corrected, accepting the caffeine gratefully. “Miguel showed up at Leo's apartment. Created a scene. I happened to be there to help defuse it.”

His eyebrows rose, but he didn't press for details about why I “happened” to be at Leo's apartment, instead focusing on practical response. “That explains Townsend's smug attitude this morning. He clearly thinks he's building a case.”

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