I wanted to say something.
I wanted to break the tension, to make a joke, to pretend the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened.
But every word I thought of felt wrong, inadequate, and potentially catastrophic.
So I said nothing.
And Skyler said nothing.
And we drove in silence toward his apartment,the weight of everything unspoken filling the car like smoke.
The drive took twenty-three minutes.
I knew because I watched the clock on my dashboard tick through every excruciating second I wasn’t paying attention to the road, desperate for something to focus on besides the man sitting two feet away from me, radiating tension like a space heater.
Neither of us spoke.
Not when we hit the highway.
Not when we exited toward downtown.
Not when I navigated the familiar streets toward Skyler’s building, a route I’d memorized from the last time I’d dropped him off after a late night at the bar.
The silence was suffocating.
I kept waiting for him to say something—anything—to break the spell. I hoped he might tell some joke about Murph, make a comment about the weather, offer a casual observation that would let us both pretend the almost-moment in the car had been nothing, a fluke, two people reaching for things at the same time.
But he just sat there, staring out the window, his reflection unreadable in the glass.
When I pulled up outside his building, I put thecar in park and let the engine idle. The tension in the car had become almost physical, a third presence occupying the space between us.
“So,” I said, my voice coming out scratchy. “Here we are.”
Skyler nodded, still not looking at me. “Yeah. Here we are.”
Another silence.
I should say something. Clear the air. Laugh it off. Anything.
Instead, I heard myself ask: “Are we okay?”
He turned to face me, and something in his expression made my chest ache. He looked confused. No, he looked lost, like someone trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re okay. I’m . . . I’m tired. Long flight.”
It was a lie. We both knew it was a lie.
But I nodded anyway, because what else was I supposed to do?
With his face still turned away, barely audible, he said, “Help me get my bag inside?”
My breath hitched.
I blinked so fast I thought my eyelids might take flight.
One swallow later, I managed, “Uh, sure.”
Skyler only had one bag. One duffel. He hatedluggage and fumbling at airports.
