Page 93 of We Are Just Us

RORY NEIGHBOR: Holy shit. Kieran. That’s incredible.

KIERAN: I know. I’m still shaking.

RORY NEIGHBOR: I bet. How is he?

KIERAN: Thin. Dirty. Perfect. Currently inhaling food like he hasn’t eaten in a week. Which he probably hasn’t.

RORY NEIGHBOR: I’m so glad.

Kieran stared at the screen, fighting back the tears welling in his eyes. Then typed:

KIERAN: So about that camping trip…

RORY NEIGHBOR: Yeah?

KIERAN: I’m in. Can I bring the dogs?

RORY NEIGHBOR: Deal. Saturday. 7am. Bring the whole family.

KIERAN: That’s unconscionably early.

RORY NEIGHBOR: The desert waits for no man.

KIERAN: Fine. But bring good coffee.

RORY NEIGHBOR: Deal.

Kieran set his phone down, a smile tugging at his lips.

He looked over at Hank and Mabel, now sprawled on the living room floor in a tangle of limbs, exhausted from their reunion.

He packed Friday afternoon with the efficiency of someone who’d spent years moving from place to place—minimal clothes, practical choices, nothing he’d miss if it got dirty or lost. He checked on both dogs, made sure he’d packed their bowls, their leashes, the treats they liked. Extra food for Hank, who needed to put weight back on.

He posted a quick update on Substack—a new photo of Hank asleep on the couch with the caption: He’s home. Thank you to everyone who shared, searched, and sent good thoughts. I owe you all a drink. Or several.

The comments filled with celebration. Heart emojis and exclamation points and people who’d never met Hank acting like they’d personally invested in his safe return.

Kieran read through them, smiling, then closed his laptop and set his alarm for 6:30 a.m.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Kieran woke before his alarm.

5:59 a.m.

The sky outside was still gray and the neighborhood quiet.

He stared up at the ceiling, same as always, then got up and headed for the shower. He took his time, longer than usual, more thorough than usual, making sure he was clean. The kind of clean that required deliberate attention to places he didn’t normally think about.

By the time he stepped out, steam filling the bathroom, he was ready.

He fed both dogs, double-checked his bag, and was just finishing his coffee when Rory’s Tacoma honked in the driveway.

Kieran grabbed his bag and headed outside, Hank and Mabel trotting beside him.

Rory was leaning against the truck, sunglasses on, looking infuriatingly awake.

“Morning,” Rory said, grinning.