"Yeah." Neal exhales; although he hadn't been holding his breath, it almost feels as though he was. The reassurance comes with an almost tangible relief, peeling off the layers of anxiety he'd been trying to ignore.

He slides the grilled cheese onto a waiting plate and offers it to Atticus. One corner's a bit over-toasted, and generous amounts of melted cheese pours out from the bread. It's the kind of food Neal knows Atticus could eat forever. Neal complains about his tastes, but Atticus has never listened. A long time ago it started to feel like a stupid in-joke. "I want to try again."