Page 127 of When a Soul Cries

Sol looked over her shoulder. “Do what?”

“Watch her sleep.”

Her gaze returned to Halo.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She was quiet for a moment.

Then her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I just like knowing she’s okay.”

There was something underneath those words.

I felt it.

I pushed away from the doorway.

“Come talk to me.”

Sol’s shoulders immediately stiffened.

I stopped.

“Just talk,” I clarified. “Nothing else.”

She studied my face.

Then nodded.

We went into the living room, and I deliberately sat on one end of the couch.

Sol chose the other.

There was enough space between us that she didn’t have to wonder what I expected.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

She kept rubbing her thumb over the side of her index finger.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Her eyes stayed on her hands.

I leaned forward and rested my forearms on my knees.

“Tell me what happened.”

Her thumb stopped.

“Today?”

“No.”

She slowly looked at me.