Constantly.
And with her other hand, she kept tracing quick patterns into his palm.
Over and over.
At first, I thought maybe he had sensory issues. Then maybe he was afraid of the noise. Then maybe she was calming him down through some kind of routine.
Whatever it was, I couldn’t stop watching.
Dean noticed me looking.
« What? » he asked, halfway through a hot dog.
I nodded toward them. « That little boy. »
Dean glanced down. « Hmm. »
« Do you see what she’s doing? »