Page 72 of All the way home

Kieran flinches, and Rena wishes she could melt into the carpet and die. “Ouch, Zach.” His voice sounds a little raw, and more than a little wounded. “Jesus Christ. That would be so terrible?”

Zach looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“It’s like . . . You’ve been a sounding board—no. It’s like, talking when I’m by myself, you know? Like, it didn’t matter if I sounded like an idiot or said something stupid, because—”

But Kieran gets the idea anyway. “Because you assumed you’d never see me again. No, I get it.”

Lucas looks between Zach and Kieran like he’s watching a tennis match.

There’s an awful, tense silence. Rena refuses to be the one to break it. Lucas’s statement from earlier echoes in her head: He’s going to make his own mistakes.

Still.

Right when she’s sure one of them is going to open their mouth and say something somehow even worse, Zach’s phone starts to vibrate, awkwardly loud.

Zach fumbles, nearly drops it, and clutches it to his chest, eyes wide, looking anywhere but at Kieran. “Shit.”

Voice tight, nearly colorless, Kieran says, “You should get that.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Zach

The thing is, Zach should.

Anyone who knows him knows not to call unless it’s important, which means this . . . is.

Is Seth calling him again?

No. Small miracles. It’s Dad.

“I didn’t mean that.” Zach swallows. His phone vibrates insistently in his hand. “Can we—can we just press pause?”

“Sure.” Kieran’s voice is flat and neutral, which is worse than if he’d sounded bitter. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be right back.” Zach walks away and around the corner, nearly walking into somebody as he steps out blindly, phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, bud.” Dad’s greeting crackles with static, nearly obscured by a persistent beeping from a nearby gate. “Thanks for picking up.”

“No problem,” Zach lies. It definitely is a problem. Just not Dad’s problem. He leans against the wall. “Is something wrong?”

“Not besides this whole delay thing.” Dad makes a sympathetic tsk noise. “Blows.”

“Yeah.” Zach’s throat tightens.

“I’m just calling to let you know we’re making a plan. We’re going to send Tove to bed in an hour or two. Then she can get some sleep before she heads out halfway through your flight, so she can watch from the road.”

“Oh, she’ll love that,” Zach says dryly. Tove, night owl extraordinaire. It’s easy to picture the squabble between her and his mom as though he’s in the room: Mom, horrified at the idea of Tove driving sleep deprived; Tove, indignant at the idea of head-on-pillow before midnight. “So, you want me to text someone else about delay updates since she’s supposed to be asleep?”

“Maybe the group chat, just to be safe. You hanging in there on the other end?”

“I forgot my headphones,” Zach blurts out, because somehow that feels like the only part of this clusterfuck he can vocalize right now. I lost my carry-on. I lost all my Christmas presents. I don’t have a change of clothes. Dad, Seth called me.

“Rough.”

Zach’s eyes dart back behind him to the gate. “Uh—yeah. Was that everything?”