Page 108 of We Are Just Us

Kieran smiled. “Fair.”

He pressed the back of his hand to Rory’s forehead. No fever, at least. Just exhaustion and dehydration and a digestive system that had staged a full revolt.

“Can you drink some water?” Kieran asked.

Rory took the bottle and sipped carefully, like his stomach might change its mind at any second.

“Good,” Kieran said. “Only little sips. We’ll get you home and you can rest.”

“I can rest here.”

“You’ll rest better in your bed. With a bathroom nearby.”

Rory huffed a weak laugh. “That does sound appealing.”

Kieran stood and did one last sweep of the campsite. Everything was packed. The truck was loaded. There was nothing left to do except leave.

He helped Rory to his feet, one arm around his waist, balancing him as they walked slowly to the Tacoma.

“I’ll drive,” Rory said as Kieran opened the passenger door.

“Absolutely not.”

“Kieran…”

“Get in the truck, Rory.”

Rory must’ve felt truly terrible because he didn’t argue. He climbed into the passenger seat with Kieran’s help, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes.

Kieran buckled him in, then closed the door quietly.

The dogs jumped into the back seat without prompting, settling in like they understood their job was to keep watch.

Kieran climbed into the driver’s seat and adjusted the mirrors, the seat, getting a feel for the truck. It was bigger than his Subaru, sat higher, handled differently. But it was solid. Reliable.

He started the engine and pulled out slowly, navigating the dirt road with care. The last thing they needed was to bottom out on a rock and strand themselves in the desert.

Rory didn’t open his eyes, but his hand drifted over to rest on Kieran’s thigh.

Kieran glanced over, then back at the road, covering Rory’s hand with his own.

They drove in silence for the first twenty minutes, leaving Joshua Tree behind, the strange twisted trees and stacked boulders giving way to open desert and eventually the highway.

Kieran kept stealing glances at Rory—checking his color, his breathing, the way he squinted occasionally like he was fighting off another wave of nausea.

“You need me to pull over?” Kieran asked.

“No. I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Rory’s thumb brushed across Kieran’s leg. “Just tired.”

“Then sleep.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Kieran’s throat tightened. “I’m fine. You need rest.”