force that is my mama, Patty, and Nancy. Even so, Zoey is the one Ella keeps seeking out, looking to her as though needing the steadiness of her presence. I feel the same way. I hate leaving her even to shower and change into clean clothes.
When I come back downstairs, I find Ella playing Scrabble with Zoey and Nancy while Patty and Mama make sandwiches. The board game is the same one I played on when I was little, a bit warped around the corners. It was never my favorite game, mostly because I kept getting stuck with all vowels.
I stand behind Ella, wanting to rest my hand on her shoulder, but choosing to keep it on the back of the chair instead. “Who’s winning?”
“Zoey,” Ella says. “But only because she’s got all the letters with the most points.”
“Let’s not forget the double- and triple-word scores,” Zoey says cheerfully, placing down tiles to spell scythe. “That’s twenty-two points. Triple-letter on the H.”
“Nice one,” Nancy says.
Ella groans. “Aren’t you supposed to go easy and let me win?”
Zoey levels Ella with a familiar look before choosing new tiles. “Nope. Losing is a great opportunity to learn. I wouldn’t want to take away your opportunities.”
“Fine.” Ella’s tone is petulant, but she doesn’t quit, and Nancy winks at me when neither of them are looking.
My hand tightens on the back of Ella’s chair, matching the squeeze in my throat. I keep finding myself committing these moments to memory, like I already know they won’t last. As though this is the only time of its kind I can ever hope to have with Ella and with Zoey. These hours already seem like they’re slipping through my fingers. Sand through the hourglass, water poured into my open palms, sliding away.
Tomorrow, we’re supposed to go back to Austin. Monday, back to work. And I haven’t talked with Zoey about whether she wants to keep helping with Ella, or how that will work with her job. Especially considering my offer earlier this week to help mentor her. How will that work with us? There is an us, right?
I made promises with my kisses, declarations and confessions about my feelings, but I know we need an actual conversation. It’s so hard to consider the future, even next week, when Ella instantly shifted everything. Zoey and I are overdue for a DTR, if people still call them that these days. Maybe now this takes place on social media. Am I supposed to swipe something?
“Help me plate up lunch, Gav,” Mama calls, and I’m thankful for something to do that will keep me from imagining how all this is going to end.
After a big lunch of sandwiches and homemade potato chips, Zoey, Ella, and I head out to the petting zoo. Because it’s Saturday, there are families everywhere. Children running and parents pushing babies in strollers.
Ella’s eyes are wide, and I swear the children are as fascinating to her as the rabbits and baby goats. Her wide brown eyes blink at kids sticking their hands through the fence posts. Mama and Daddy have set up vending machines for the feed, disabling the coin slot so it’s all free. To say our animals are well-fed would be an understatement.
Ella holds out her white palm at the goat pen, barely noticing the goat lipping and nipping at her hand. Her gaze is on the girl about her age standing next to her, laughing with one of her brothers. Ella seems frozen, studying their interaction.
I frown, and Zoey gives me a look telling me that she’s noticed too. Zoey nudges Ella, and she giggles when the goat begins nibbling on the hem of her shirt. But when a younger boy accidentally jostles Ella, she tenses and jumps back from the fence.
Zoey takes her hand, and I’m frankly shocked that Ella doesn’t pull away. Two days ago, she would have. They walk toward the barn, where there are fewer people in the shadowy main walkway. I hang back, listening and wondering if Ella will ever let me take her hand that easily.
“They’re all smiling,” Ella says to Zoey in a quiet voice. She sounds shocked, like this is something completely foreign to her. “All of them. Just smiling and laughing.”
Zoey leans close to Ella. “Is that … not something you’re used to seeing?”
“No. I mean, not really.”
Just the one word. Zoey doesn’t press for more, but I can read the concern in her furrowed brow as she slips her hand around Ella’s shoulders.
“Do I need