Chapter 13: dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine

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Adele wakes me up about two in the morning, demanding a new diaper and more food. I shush her, and turn to check the clock on my bedside table, except it’s not there because I’m not in my room. I’m in Eric’s. I slip out from under the blankets and lay Adele on my chest; she’s usually a little less fussy when she knows you’re paying attention to her. The room is dim, lit only by the emergency lights on the corners of the outer buildings in the compound, so it takes me a moment to remember where I left the baby’s bag.

I tip toe over to the edge of the couch, where Eric is still dead to the world, and crouch down next to his ear to dig through the bag. I find a diaper, bottle and container of powered formula easily enough, but I can’t find the nipple for Adele to eat out of. Eric shifts on the cushion, stretches out and blinks his eyes open.

“Go back to sleep,” I murmur.

He sits up instead, rubs his hands over his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice gravelly and hoarse from sleep.

“Nothing. It’s feeding time again and I can’t find the stupid nipple.”

“Watch your eyes,” he says, and I cover Adele’s face with my hand and close my eyes. I hear a switch turn and when I open my eyes, dim light is coming from a lap set behind the couch.

I sigh and continue to search for the nipple in the bottom the bag. Eric pushes on my shoulder and I lean back without thinking about it. He scoops Adele out of my arms and cradles her against his bare chest, leaving me free to empty the bag and finally find the bottle topper shoved in a corner of the fabric.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks sleepily.

“Do you know how to make a bottle?”

He blinks.

“Three quarters of the way full with warm water,” I say, holding the bottle out to him, “two scoops of power. Shake.”

He takes the bottle from me and I take Adele from him. I lay her out on a blanket from her bag and change her diaper as quickly as I can, making sure she’s clean, before dressing her again. She’s a little more relaxed when she’s clean and warm, so I shuffle her back into my arms, take the dirty diaper and head for the bathroom. Eric is standing over the sink filling the bottle with water, so I slip by him and dump the diaper down the trash chute that’s standard in every bathroom in the compound. When he’s done putting the bottle together, he takes the baby again and moves over so I can wash my hands.

He doesn’t go far, and I’m able to watch his reflection in the mirror. His movements are slow and heavy, like he’s not quite awake, so I’m surprised that he has enough sleep sense to cover the tip of the nipple before shaking the bottle. Watching him with Adele is…it’s nice. He doesn’t look like a Dauntless leader at two in the morning with no shirt and a baby. I dry my hands on the hem of my shirt without thinking about it, and lean on the door frame to watch him pace the apartment, cradling Adele and feeding her the bottle.

When the bottle is halfway gone, Adele turns her face away and refuses to eat any more. Eric sits back on the couch and rests her against his chest and sets the bottle on the floor.

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