Sage finally breaks.
“Of course he did,” she whispers, voice wrecked. “That’s who he is. That’s what he does.”
She wipes at her face angrily, like she’s mad at the tears.
“He’s the best,” she says. “He’s so selfless. Oh my God… I fucked up.”
No one argues.
No one reassures her.
We all hang our heads.
Because it’s true.
While we sat here watching the same footage on a loop, helpless and frozen, Ethan ran toward the fire. Toward the smoke. Toward people who needed someone who knew engines, tides, boats—someone who didn’t panic when the world went sideways.
Knowing that doesn’t make us smaller.
But it does make the room very quiet.
“He’s not flying,” Tony says. “He won’t get on a plane. Won’t take a train either. He doesn’t trust anything right now.”
Smart.
“He’s arranging a boat. He’s gonna inspect it himself. Charter it. It’ll take a few days. But he’s coming home.”
The wordhomesettles into the room like a promise.
Sage nods, tears still falling, but her breathing finally steadying.
“He’ll come back,” she says. “I know he will.”
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I believe it too.
Not because the world suddenly feels safe again.
But because someone we love did something brave while the rest of us could only watch.
And for now?—
That’s enough.
PART II
CHAPTER 20
ETHAN
The city sounds different now.
Boston always had a hum—traffic, buses sighing at stops, voices spilling out of bars—but after New York, after the smoke and the sirens and the endless footage on loop, everything feels… muted. Like someone turned the volume knob just a notch to the left and never put it back.
I’m back at work, technically.
Same building. Same badge. Same desk.
But the conversations are softer. People lean in when they talk. No one slams doors. No one jokes about flying anymore. The TVs are gone from the break room, unplugged like they offended someone.
