Page 20 of We Are Just Us

Did Rory see everything?

Did he glance? Did he assess?

“Nope,” Kieran said sharply, scrubbing shampoo into his hair like it had personally betrayed him. “We are not doing this.”

He thought about Rory’s expression—not shocked or offended. More surprised. Amused.

Kieran leaned his forehead against the tile. He imagined every possible retelling…

Rory telling a friend, “So yeah, my neighbor sprinted buck ass naked across his yard like a Greek tragedy.”

Rory telling no one but remembering forever.

Rory never thinking about it again, which somehow made it worse.

The toddler’s laughter replayed in his head and he groaned, sliding his hands down his face.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “There was a child. A literal child.”

Even though he rationally knew that he hadn’t been anywhere near her, hadn’t exposed himself intentionally, hadn’t done anything illegal or malicious or remotely planned, his brain refused to let logic in the room.

The water kept coming, relentless.

He straightened suddenly, panic flaring.

What if Rory thought…what if this changed everything?

Kieran laughed once, sharp and breathless, tipping his head back into the spray.

“Changed what?” he shouted to himself. “This isn’t anything.”

He dragged his hands down his arms, grounding himself in sensation that wasn’t memory. Heat. Water. Here. Now.

Eventually, the spiral burned itself out—not because it resolved, but because it exhausted him.

Kieran shut the water off and let the steam curl around him, pulse still loud in his ears but slower now.

“Well,” he said quietly, reaching for a towel. “That was humbling.”

He wrapped it around his waist, armored by terry cloth and shame.

There was nothing Kieran needed more than a goddamn nap.

SEVEN

The doorbell rang.

Kieran woke up disoriented and damp.

For a few seconds, he had no idea where he was or why his body felt heavy in that post-shower, post-spiral way. The light in the room had changed, and was no longer the bright afternoon glare, but something softer, ambered, sliding toward evening.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

“Shit,” Kieran muttered, sitting upright too fast and regretting it. He glanced around, clocking the room. Towels. Couch. Phone on the floor. He’d fallen asleep hard. Clean exhaustion, the kind that didn’t ask permission.

The dogs were standing in the hallway, alert but quiet. Tails neutral. Curious, not alarmed.

That was a red flag.