Page 28 of Cinder
“It had flippers,” Leah calls as she heads back toward the kitchen.
“Mm, that helps.” I chuckle.
Elle’s hands suddenly land on my cheeks, squishing them slightly. She squints at me.
“Are you tired?”
The question is casual, but it tugs at my chest all the same.
“Nah.” I smooth her hair back. “I’m good, bug.”
Herb watches the exchange without saying anything, because he knows better.
Elle studies me for a beat, then nods. “Okay. So we can do more Antarctica tonight?”
“We can,” I say, standing. “But let’s get you home before Antarctica freezes your eyelashes off.”
Leah chuckles from the kitchen, and Herb steps back to give us room. I lift Elle and head toward the door, but my hand pauses on the knob.
I turn back to Herb. “Thank you. I know you guys don’t have to—”
Herb holds his hand up before I finish.
“You’re not imposing,” he says.
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You were about to,” he replies.
He takes a step toward me, close enough now that I can see the smile lines around his eyes deepen when he looks from me to Elle.
“We got her,” he says simply, as Leah reappears behind him. “Same way we’ve always had you.”
My eyes move from Herb’s to Leah’s, then back to Elle. I nod, because that’s all I can do right now.
“Alright.”
Leah reaches out and squeezes my arm briefly before stepping back. “Drive safe.”
“I will.”
“Seatbelt!” Elle announces from my shoulder as I open the front door and walk her down the porch steps.
Herb huffs out a quiet laugh after us. “She’s got you covered.”
She definitely does.
Once we arrive home and pull into the driveway, Gus is already visible through the front window, his front paws braced on the sill as though he’s been expecting us for the last ten minutes.
The second I unlock the door, he explodes forward in a blur of white and black spots.
“Gus-Gus!” Elle squeals as he skids across the hardwood and nearly takes us both out at the knees.
“He’s supposed to sit,” I say pointedly, even as he barrels around us in frantic circles.
He does not sit.
After lots of pats, we settle into our usual rhythm. Shoes are kicked off in the hallway, and Gus parks himself directly in the middle of it all like a spotted Dalmatian roadblock, tail thumping as if we might forget he exists if he doesn’t keep reminding us. Elle drops her backpack exactly one foot from where I’ve asked her to put it.
