Chapter 12 Where Does She Put It?
Leelaa was halfway through the second chicke leg when she felt it--the weight of silence.
The conversation at the table had lulled. It wasn't just Jax; half the table was watching her. They weren't being malicious-they were just curious, watching the petite newcomer decimate a plate of food that would have choked a bear.'
But to Leela, it felt like a spotlight.
The shame hit her hard. She wasn't dining; she was feeding, and looked like an animal.
She swallowed the bite with difficulty and lowered the chicken leg back to the plate. Her fork clattered loudly against the ceramic. She wiped her mouth with her napkin, ducking her head, her appetite suddenly replaced by a tight knoow of embarrassment.
Across the table, Jax let out a short, amused bark of laughter. "Don't stop on my account. It was liking watching a shark week documentary. Impressive really."
Leela's face burned hot. The blood rushed to her cheeks, and with it came the familiar, static buzz in her chest.
BZZZZZ-ZZZIT.
The big antler chandelier above the table didn't just dim, they strobed. The light bulbs flared bright white, then dropped to a dull orange, then flared again, casting erratic, jumping shadows against the against the logs walls. The hum of electricity filled the room, sounding like a hive of angry bees.
The table went dead silent. Jax stopped smiling. He looked up the flickering lights, looking genuinely nervous for the first time.
Then there was warmth.
Fennigan didn't look at the lights. He reached under the table and found her hand, He gripped it tight, his thumb rubbing firm circles into her palm.
He leaned in close, ignoring his family. He pressed his lips against her hair, just above her ear.
"It's okay," he whispered, his voice a low vibration against her skull. "You're safe. I've got you. Breathe."
The effect was instantaneous.
The static in Leela's chest dissipated, grounded by his touch. The buzzing stopped. The chandelier gave one final flicker and set back into a steady, warm glow.
Leela let out a shaky breath, leaning slightly into Fennnigan's shoulder.
From the head of the table, Elana watched the entire exchange. She took a slow sip of her wine, her green eyes moving from the settled lights to her son, and finally resting on Leela.
A slow genuine smile spread across her face.
"Well," Elana said, setting her glass down with a decisive click. "You must be my daughter-in-law. Because if he ground you that much, you aren't going anywhere."
Dinner eventually wound down, but the noise didn't. If anything the volume in the Dining Hall increased as dessert--huge trays of brownies and ice cream--was brought out.
Fennigan watched Leela. She was sitting quietly, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, but her eyes were darting around the room, tracking every loud laugh and every slamming door. She looked like a deer trying to decide which way to bolt.
"Come on," Fennigan murmured, standing up. "Let's get you out of here."
He guided her out the hall and back into the foyer. It was cooler here, away from the kitchen heat and bodies. Leela shivered slightly, rubbing her arms.
Fennigan reached for the coat rack. He grabbed a heavy hoodie--one of his own that had been hung there--and held it out.
"Put this on," he said. "It's chilly outside."
Leela pulled it over her head. It was comically large. The shoulder seams hung down to her elbows, and the hem hit her mid-thigh. When she pushed her hands through the sleeves, her fingers barely peeked out of the cuffs. She looked like a child playing dress up, swallowed by the fabric that smelled like him-pine, rain, and cedar.
"Better," Fennigan smiled, tugging on the hood.
He opened the front door, and they stepped out onto the porch.
The air was sharp and clean, scrubbing away the sensory overload of the dinner. The porch was dark--mostly because Leela had blown out all the lights upon arrival, but the moonlight filtered through the trees, her shoulders still hunched up near her ears.
Fennigan didn't say anything. He just stepped bedhind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her back against his chest.
"I know," he whispered into the hood of the sweatshirt. "It's to much. Too loud. Too many people."
Leela let out a long, shaky sigh. She stopped holding herself. She stopped scanning for threats. She just leaned back, letting him take her weight. She melted into him, burying her face in his arm.
"It's not that," she mumbled. "It's just...I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to yell. For the fight to start."
"There is no other shoe," Fennigan promised, tightening his hold. "And nobody fights here unless it's training. You can let go, Leela. You're safe."
Leela let out a long sigh. She believed him. The knot of anxiety in her chest unspooled. A warm, golden feeliing--like the sunlight in her dream--spread through her veins, and tingled down her arms and hummed in her fingertips, which were resting on the edge of the wooden railing next to an old, empty flower box.
She closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of him.
Fennigan rested his chin on the top of her head, looking out at the forest.
Then, he blinked.
"What the..."
He pulled back slightly, looking down at the railing.
"Leela.:
"Hmmm?" she hummed, not wanting to move.
"Look at the flower boc, which had been filled with nothing but dry, dead potting soil a moment ago, was moving. Green shoots were spiralling up from the dirt in fast-forward, twisting and climbing. As they watched, tiny buds formed at the tips and burst open.
Hundreds of tiny, vibrant red flowers carpeted the box, glowing faintly in the moonlight. They spilled over the edges, trailing down the side of the porch railing like a waterfall of ruby light.
"Well," Fennigan said, reaching out ot touch a flower petal. "That's new."
Leela stared at her hands. "I did that?"
Fennigan shrugged. "You usually break things." he laughed sounding awestruck. "This...this is the exact opposite."
He turned his head toward the front door.
"Mom! Dad!" he yelled, his voice echoing into the house. "You guys need to see this."