Page 121 of All the way home

“I got close, last summer,” Kieran says, smile fading. “It was . . . It didn’t work out.”

Decidedly, if the hard edges of Kieran’s mouth are anything to go by. “That bad, huh?”

Kieran clears his throat. “It just fizzled, I guess. And we were only together a month or so, so it was probably for the best.”

And that doesn’t feel quite true, but Kieran’s already soldiering on, something dark and pinched in his expression.

Zach falls silent and stays that way. He wishes he knew what to do to ease whatever Kieran’s thinking about, but he doesn’t often know how to do that even with people he’s known his whole life.

As they reach a nearly-empty gate, Kieran heaves a deep breath. “Last secret.”

Eyeing him, Zach nods.

“Well, almost. But—the most important one.”

He tilts his head. “Okay.”

There’s another long silence while they walk, as though Kieran is steeling himself.

Then, all in a rush, he says, “I was admitted to a psych ward.”

It all comes together in a split second.

Just by the way Kieran says it—one sentence made up of words blurring together until they’re almost formless—Zach knows. This was the point of the game. The point of the secrets.

So the way he responds is vitally important. Voice even, he asks, “Last year?”

Kieran nods.

His first instinct—surprise—is faint and feels inconsequential.

Nodding, Zach says, “Okay.”

Kieran glances over.

“Thanks for telling me,” Zach says carefully, testing each word before it meets the air. “For trusting me with it.”

“I’m . . . careful about telling people,” Kieran admits. There’s a tight, strained quality to his tone when he adds, “And I think Rena is either afraid of me or for me. I don’t really want to ask. She never really forgave me for it.”

Nausea rises slowly. “I mean—she has to know, it was out of your . . . mental health isn’t something you can blame on someone.”

“Maybe you can.” Kieran shrugs. “Maybe it comes down to nature. Sometimes you can do everything right, and you’re still a dormant volcano. Sooner or later, everyone’s just waiting for the eruption.”

Zach examines Kieran’s face. No trace of a smile, none of the easy confidence he’s been tossing around all evening. “And you went off.”

Kieran mimes an explosion with his hands.

“But that’s not your fault.”

Clearly thinking hard, Kieran shakes his head. “Imagine you’re Rena. You’re in control all the time. Everything you do is deliberate.”

“Genuinely can’t,” Zach admits. “I have diagnosed general anxiety. I haven’t felt in control of anything in like, forever.”

“Imagine,” Kieran insists.

So Zach falls silent. Serious.

“You do everything on purpose, and it’s hard to imagine that anyone else is different. And then the person you’ve relied on your entire life tries to walk out of it.”