Page 81 of We Are Just Us

Emory didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Kieran sat down. The chair creaked.

The Airbnb message was sitting in his sent folder. Month-to-month rental, flexible move-in date. He’d pulled the words straight from Rory’s mouth. Had typed them as a declaration of independence.

His chest lurched. Not a realization. That was too clean a word for it. More like stepping on a stair that wasn’t there. The ground different beneath him than he’d expected.

“Kieran?” Emory said.

“Yeah.”

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah.”

A long silence.

“I used his exact words,” Kieran said finally. His voice sounded far away, even to him. “Month-to-month. That’s what he called me. And I typed it into a search bar like it was a fucking feature.”

Emory was quiet.

The porch was quiet. Hank had given up digging and was sitting by the fence, watching Kieran with his head tilted.

Kieran didn’t say anything else for a while. Emory held the line open. She was good at that, knowing when to push and when to stay.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too. But I’m not helping you move to San Francisco.”

“I’m not moving to San Francisco.”

“Good. And for the record, Jim has done wonders.”

She hung up.

Kieran sat on the porch for a long time after.

He opened his phone and looked at the Airbnb message. The host’s cheerful response. The photos of the studio with the exposed brick and the alley view.

Thank you for getting back to me. I’ve decided to stay where I am.

He hit send.

It didn’t feel triumphant.

He watched the light change, listening to the ocean he couldn’t see but could always hear, while Hank pressed his warm body against Kieran’s legs and Mabel snored in the shade.

He was almost asleep when the whining started.

Low at first, then higher. Insistent. Hank was standing at the side of the bed, nose pressed against the mattress, shifting his weight from paw to paw.

“Seriously?” Kieran muttered, reaching for his phone. 1:39 a.m. “Now?”

Hank whined again, more urgent, backing toward the door.

Kieran sighed and pushed himself off the mattress. His body was heavy, wrung out from days of not sleeping well and too much thinking.

He shuffled to the back door and slid it open, letting Hank out into the yard.