I roll my eyes but shift over anyway, making room for him. He sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him even before he drapes the blanket over both of us. I didn’t even realize how cold I had gotten. He lifts his arm, an unspoken invitation, and I hesitate for only a second before shifting to his side. His arm settles around my shoulders, and the weight of it is grounding, steady.

“Better?” he murmurs.

I nod, relaxing against him, letting the gentle rocking motion of the chair lull some of the tension from my muscles.

Theo exhales, shifting slightly. “This thing is comfortable. What are we even sitting in?”

“A double rocking chair,” I answer, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He makes a thoughtful noise. “I need one of these for my place.”

I laugh softly. “I got it for Valkyrie. She’s a velcro dog—always has to be touching me. I figured if I was going to sit outside with her, I might as well be comfortable.”

Theo glances at the screen door, where Valkyrie is still watching us, her top teeth peeking out as she presses her nose against it. “Guess you’re not the only one with a shadow.”

I hum in agreement, absently tracing the rim of my mug again. For a while, we just sit there, rocking gently, the quiet between us comfortable. But the weight of tomorrow still lingers.

Theo breaks the comfortable silence we rocked ourselves into. “What are you drinking?”

“Water,” I say simply.

Theo’s face twists into mock horror. “Water? In a mug? What kind of heathen are you?” He puts a hand to his chest like I’ve personally offended him. “Selene, water doesn’t belong in mugs. Mugs are for coffee, tea, hot chocolate…warm things. You can’t just put water in there and pretend that’s normal.”

“I wasn’t pretending anything,” I say, grinning. “It’s convenient and it makes me feel cozy.”

He narrows his eyes at me, but there’s a teasing spark in them. “You’re telling me, out of all the options in your kitchen, you went for a mug. For water.”

“Yeah, Hot Shot. I am. Is there a problem?” I say firmly, trying not to laugh.

Theo shakes his head in mock disappointment. “I’m questioning your sanity now. What sane person drinks water out of a mug?”

“I think we’ve established I’m not exactly normal,” I shoot back, raising the mug in a mock toast. “To my insanity.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and genuine, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m serious, though. Water in a mug? That’s serial killer behavior.”

“Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around Aubrey,” I joke, though the words come out softer than I intended.