Beckett’s POV
Callie's weight settles against my shoulder somewhere between the second and third course, so gradual I barely notice the shift until she's fully there, her small frame curled trustingly into my side, one hand loosely fisted in the fabric of my shirt.
I go very still, unsure what to do with the sudden, overwhelming tenderness that floods through me at the simple, unguarded trust of it. She's not performing for anyone right now, not for the cameras, not for her mother, not even for me. She's just tired, and comfortable, and apparently decided, somewhere in her small, exhausted mind, that I'm safe enough to lean on.
I don't move. I barely breathe, terrified of disturbing whatever fragile, precious thing is happening right now, this small, ordinary moment of a child simply tr
