Page 35 of All the way home

Like it’ll be a letdown if he isn’t.

Squaring his shoulders, he tries to channel his inner Mara. “If you could go back in time, what would you change?”

“Pass,” Kieran says, without hesitation.

Zach blinks.

“No offense,” Kieran adds. “It’s a good question. But I’m still passing.”

“Okay.” Shifting uncomfortably, Zach tries to come up with another question. His mind goes frustratingly and uselessly blank. As they turn the corner, he zeroes in on a table of books on display and blurts out, “What’s your favorite book?”

The pause before he answers feels jarringly un-Kieran. Then, voice very casual, Kieran asks, “Have you read Song of Achilles?”

Zach shakes his head.

“Well. That one. It’s good.”

“What’s it about? Some kind of Greek retelling?”

Something ripples across Kieran’s face—a change, subtle enough it’s hard to read, obvious enough that Zach is certain Kieran’s analyzing him. And the thing is, he’s not sure he passes muster, because Kieran shakes his head and tells him, “Yeah, but it’s one of those you sort of have to read to get why it’s good.”

“Okay.” Zach makes a note to google it later.

“My turn.” Instead of going straight back the way they’d come, Kieran leads Zach into the gift shop with the book table, stopping at the display to run his fingers over the glossy cover of Station Eleven. “Would you ever want to be famous?”

“Fuck no.” Only realizing his intensity after the fact, Zach scrambles to explain. “My business is my business. Would you?”

“I thrive on attention,” Kieran says, without a trace of self-consciousness. Then he catches Zach’s eye and winks.

And—Kieran has to stop winking at him. It’s disarming, and it shouldn’t work, is the thing. It shouldn’t make him feel like he missed a step going downstairs.

But it does anyway.

Chapter Eleven

Rena

There are a half dozen things Rena would rather do than rehash her argument with Lucas. Like re-enroll in all the courses she’s already taken. Or have an honest heart-to-heart with Siobhan and Oscar about Sahar, or start taking her clothes off at the airport.

Well, maybe not that last one. But still.

Aware of how tiny her voice sounds, Rena asks, “Do we have to?”

“At some point.” Lucas sounds tired, as though he’s already analyzed her tone and interpreted hidden meanings in it.

“Not here,” she says, hoping he’ll agree.

He nods and rubs at his face. “As long as we do eventually.”

“Eventually.” The echo sounds empty and sour.

A fresh wave of travelers pours out from security, each one more disgruntled than the last. For the last hour, the surrounding atmosphere has been toeing the line between general displeasure and unmitigated outrage, and as more people cram into the gate, it tips toward the latter.

Rena’s already standing up before she’s decided to do it.

Tearing his gaze away from a heated argument over a nearby outlet, Lucas lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m going to see if I can get any more information.” Wiping her palms on her leggings, Rena pivots back at the last moment. “Save my seat?”