Word Count: 756

“You’re back late.”

Dad was on the couch, waiting. A few lit candles cast a faint, golden glow around the living room, leaving shadows where there usually weren’t any. Énna stood in the open doorway for a moment, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. His stomach swooped out of place, still unsettled by the encounter with the Calamitous Hollow. Victory was a relief, but it always seemed short lived. There would be other incidents, more catastrophes, future tragedies they had no adequate preparation for.

“You’re awake,” he said.

Énna shut and locked the front door. He let his duffel bag fall there, then maneuvered around the furniture to throw himself onto the couch. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders to pull him close. Énna returned the hug and settled in for a cuddle.

“Thought you’d be spending the night with Atticus,” Dad said, low and grumbly like always.

“Oh…” In all the commotion, the usual lie had slipped Énna’s mind. “I was, but… Elliot came over and I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”

They’d arrived back in Destiny City in the aftermath. Between the need for a discreet escape and treatment for the wounded, they’d gone their separate ways sooner than they might have otherwise. Atticus and Elliot had each other and Atticus’ parents to worry about. Riker and Julian had family there, too, not to mention Cynthus, Rose, and Cassidy waiting at Reims. Only Énna had come alone, so he’d said his goodbyes and left the same way, avoiding the main streets until he’d found a safe place to power down.

The city was quiet in darkness, except for the sirens—less people out, less cars on the road, less shops open late night. There hadn’t been anywhere to go but home. After facing the prospect of Earth’s destruction, there was no other place Énna wanted to be.

He squeezed Dad tighter, put his head on Dad’s shoulder and blinked the sting of tears from his eyes.

“Why are you up?” Énna asked, once he’d swallowed to soothe a tightening throat. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

Dad scoffed. “Crazy weather kept me up.”

“It’s over now,” Énna said.

“Is it?”

“Mm.”

A hand cupped his head, drawing him closer. Fingers slid through his long hair, working out a few knots left by the violent wind. Énna had cleaned up as much as he could on the way home, but there was only so much he could do without a shower. Fortunately, Dering’s shield had spared him from the worst of it. He was sore and a little bruised, with a few minor burns on areas of skin that had been left exposed, but nothing Dad would notice in the dark.

In a few days, it would be as if nothing had happened.

Dad’s fingers caught as he loosened another tangle, pulling something from Énna’s hair.

“What’s this?” he asked.

A piece of scale, small but unmistakable, caught the dancing candlelight. Énna’s heart skipped a beat. He kept his head low on Dad’s shoulder to hide his face, grateful for the darkness to conceal his fear, for the fatigue that kept him from tensing suspiciously.

“I don’t know,” he said after a long, quiet moment, like he was trying to place it instead of attempting to come up with another lie. “It was windy earlier. It must’ve got stuck in my hair.”

“Hm.”

Énna waited until he was sure he wouldn’t give anything away, then shifted to peer at Dad’s face.

Dad turned the scale between his fingers, examining the surface with a frown. He looked the way he always did: gruff and stern, and steely eyed—intimidating to those who didn’t know him. Énna saw no flicker of suspicion on his bearded face, no glimmer of concern in his green eyes. Dad flicked the shard of scale off his thumb and caught it in his palm. Then he met Énna’s gaze and softened by a fraction. Carelessly, he tossed the scale onto the coffee table before pressing a scratchy kiss to Énna’s forehead.

“Should get some sleep,” Dad said.

Énna settled against his shoulder again, willing the rapid pace of his heart to ease.

“In a little while,” he said.

Dad offered no argument. He made no move to usher Énna away. He held him like he used to when Énna was small, when he’d wake up scared from bad dreams.

“Love you,” Dad grumbled.

Énna took a single, careful breath, eyes going wet and voice thickening when he answered, “Love you, too.”