Page 75 of All the way home

After it’s become nearly excruciating, Lucas says, “Well.”

“Well-fucking-indeed.” Kieran clenches his jaw.

“That was a can of worms I didn’t realize I was opening,” Rena tells him.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs, but he won’t look at her. “I shouldn’t have kept it a secret, and I know that, but for him to say—”

“I don’t think he meant it,” Rena cuts in gently.

“He meant it.” Glumly, Kieran drops his face into his hands.

Silence stretches.

Next to them, Gianni catches Lucas’s eye and lifts both shoulders, as if to say, What can you do?

Thankfully, Kieran doesn’t catch it.

Rena startles when Lucas puts his hand over hers. An unspoken question lingers in the lift of his eyebrow: What now?

They’re quiet for a long, long time.

Rena hates when Kieran is quiet. Quiet with him is destructive. Mum says it’s like realizing you’ve gone a long time without hearing anything from the toddler in the next room. For the most part, Rena hadn’t bought that. She used to be able to decode his silences.

After what feels like an eternity, Kieran pockets his phone and rubs at the side of his face. “What do you guys think I should do?”

“Chase after him,” Lucas suggests.

Rena cuts him a glare. “Do not chase after him.”

“Wow.” Kieran almost smiles. “Helpful advice. Thanks, guys.”

Lucas smirks.

Leaning back on his suitcase, Kieran turns to face her. “Reen?”

So he’s asking. He’s outright asking for her opinion, which means she can give it.

Rena takes a deep breath. “There’s been a breach of trust, however small. I think you should be cautious.”

“I am being cautious.” Kieran shakes his hair out.

“I just think it would be a good idea to be careful. Either for your sake or for his, I don’t know yet.” Rena huffs. “It’s a good thing you have me to think on your behalf.”

Kieran scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instantly, she regrets saying anything. But she did say it, so she sighs and adds, “You just have a tendency to act without thinking.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Rena shoots him a dark look: You did too; you did what you’re always doing. “Why didn’t you just tell him?”

“I honestly didn’t think it mattered.”

Frustration rips through her like betrayal. Does he even know how many times he’s said that? Doesn’t he know that it matters? It always matters. A hard knot forms at the base of her throat. “That excuse won’t work anymore.”

“I’m serious!” He almost seems genuine. “He was nervous. I mean, maybe I thought it would make things a little smoother if he didn’t know, but it wasn’t, like, malicious.”

“It doesn’t matter if it was malicious or not.” It feels like they’ve had this exact conversation a hundred times. A thousand. All that’s left is a shell—the ghost of past statements and objections stacked on top of each other. “You can’t keep using that excuse. It didn’t work on me last year, and it didn’t work in the summer, and it’s not going to work with this, either.”