Max

---

“Let’s just go home.” Wes plops down on the plastic airport bench. His knee knocks into Kate’s. “I want to go home.”

Kate shifts away from him. “You sound like a five-year-old.”

Carson cracks one eye open, bleary and hung over. His lip curls halfheartedly. Our flight’s delayed, has been for hours, and everyone’s on edge. Wes, especially. He’s been running back and forth from the bathroom, pacing around the terminal, worrying at the cover of his paperback, a ball of nervous energy.

“I just... The funeral’s over. We haven’t heard from you-know-who in a week. Why drag ourselves back to New York?” He looks around hopefully, trying to catch my eye, and then Carson’s. Finding no support there, he turns back to Kate. “Come on. What do you say? Malt loaf! Chips and vinegar! Proper milk! Aren’t you missing the comforts of home?”

Kate’s lips tighten. She doesn’t look like she got a lot of sleep after I drifted off. “Go to one of those British stores, if you need that stuff so bad. My disaster happened over here. I’ve got to run damage control.”

Wes toes at the carpet and says nothing.

Carson tilts his head back, eyes still shut. “Gimme a couple of days—I’ll go back with you.” He grins. “Always wanted to ride one of those double-decker buses.”

“I love going over bridges on those things,” says Kate. “You can’t see the railing: it’s like you’re flying.”

Carson chuckles at that, then winces and rubs his temples. A robotic voice summons a June Parker to Customs and Immigration. I dig through my pockets, looking for the chocolates I bought at the duty free. They’re nowhere. Must’ve fallen out. This day just gets better and better.

Wes picks the price tag off his book. It sticks to his fingers when he tries to flick it off. He starts to say something, stops, and spits it out anyway. “When do you think you’ll be done here?”

I roll my eyes. Fuck’s sake—drop it already!

Kate exhales forcefully. “Two weeks. Maybe a month. I don’t know. Sonia’s trying to get me into that charity show, so....” She pats Wes’s hand. “I know this is hitting you hard. If there’s anything I can—”

“You can come the fuck home!”

Kate recoils. “What the—?”

“And you can get this shit off me!” Wes flings his hands in the air. Scrubs them on his pants. Scrapes them along the bench. The price tag stays stuck to his thumb. He stares at it for a moment, eyes wet and glassy. “Goddammit!”

Carson jerks in his seat, eyes flying open. “Wes! Shit! Get ahold of yourself!”

“I can’t get this—I can’t—” He bites the wadded-up price tag off his thumb and spits it on the floor. “Like you’re all so perfect.”

Kate mutters something under her breath. She takes a long, deliberate sip of coffee, opens Wes’s book, and starts to read. Wes stands rooted to the spot, red to the eyeballs. His eyes dart between Kate and Carson. When neither makes a move to comfort him, he sits back down.

“Sorry.”

“Uh-huh....” Kate turns the page.

“I didn’t—I don’t know what came over me.” Wes sags in his seat. “I’m tired. Homesick, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m going through the same thing, remember?”

Wes winces. “Think it’s all hitting me at once. Dev, Kyle, the—my....” He waves his arms in a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “Keep thinking if I could get back to my things, my routine, my own bed, it’d somehow be all right.”

Christ. Can’t he leave well enough alone?

“I’ll do better. I swear.”

Kate shuts her book with a smack. “You can’t go to pieces, all right? I’m here for you—we all are—but you can’t do this shit.” Kate’s lips quirk upward, but her eyes stay hard. “You with me?”

“Yeah.” Wes scrunches down small. “It’s selfish, I know. Just—you’re part of my routine. Shower, breakfast, coffee at your place.... All those little normal things you don’t notice till they’re gone.”

Her expression softens. “We can still have coffee in New York.” She’s rubbing his neck now. Petting him like a cat. “It’ll be okay. And if that charity show isn’t too complicated, if Sonia can handle it...how about I look into flying back early?”

Wes nods. Sniffles. Damn it. He’s getting on my nerves. This is such vintage Wes. He’s always been like this: small and helpless. A born victim. Used to think he was sneaky, doing it for Kate’s attention, but nope. It’s just him. He’ll be next to crack, and if he takes Kate with him, so help me....

I take a deep breath. I’m being an asshole, just like Carson said. “This is what he wants, remember? Us freaking out, acting like the sky’s falling.” I jostle his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some fast food. Soak up the last of that liquor, huh?”

The look Wes shoots me is pure venom. “Think I’ll pass on the grease. Don’t want to get sick on the plane.”

“Suit yourself.”

He mouths the words back at me, sneering. I turn my back on him—pissy little fuck.

A porter goes by on a buggy. The overhead screen updates, and updates again: our flight stays delayed. Wes pulls his knees up to his chest, the picture of misery. I’m being too tough on him. Out of all of us, he’s been hit hardest—financially, at least. Maybe legally, as well. He’s got to be scared. I should see if I can pull some strings for him when we get out of here. If we ever do. I’m starting to think we should invest in a couple of tents.

Carson offers Tic Tacs around. Kate wanders off and comes back with more coffee. No-one talks much. I’m bored out of my mind, half-dozing, when an electronic chime plays.

“That’s our flight.” Carson points at the monitor. “Looks like we’re back on.”

“Finally. I hate airports.” Wes reaches for his overnight bag. He brightens visibly as Kate scoops up his book and falls in beside him for the walk to the boarding gate.

Carson sidles up beside me. “You two have a fight?”

“Not that I know of.” I walk faster, hoping to avoid further discussion, but he matches my pace.

“Couldn’t help noticing she hasn’t looked at you since the hotel.”

I hiss through my teeth. “Whatever.” I don’t get it: she gave so freely of herself last night. Not just the sex, but... She was open. Present. Laughing with me, lying in my arms like she belonged there. Why—? Is this going to be like before?—one minute, everything’s fine; the next, she’s just...gone, for no reason?

“Oh! Butterfingers!” Wes drops his coat. Kate catches it, and I feel myself grimace. Small and helpless. Cracking around the edges. And he’s battened onto her like a limpet. Getting his crazy all over her.

“Don’t worry about him. They’re just friends.”

“That’s not—” Kate glances over her shoulder, and I lower my voice. “That’s not what I’m worried about. Look at him: he’s a mess.”

“Nah. He’s just hung over.” Carson elbows me companionably. “We had a pretty good talk last night. He’s struggling, but he’ll be okay. He has a plan. It’s mostly Matt Danbury getting him down.”

My frown deepens. “Got to be dredging up some seriously rancid memories there.”

“To put it mildly.”

I am being a prick. Hadn’t thought about how bad it got with Matt and Wes for a while. Especially the locker room thing—that was—

Wes turns around. “I, uh—first class was full, so I—” He shakes his head. “What am I trying to prove? I’m fucking broke. I’ll be in coach, so... See you on the other side.”

“I’m right there with you.” Carson holds up his ticket. “We’ll get someone to switch. Sit together.”

And that leaves me and Kate. She smiles when I sit next to her, rests her head on my shoulder during takeoff. So it’s not me she’s avoiding: it’s letting Carson and Wes in on the secret. Makes sense, if she still suspects one of them—or, more likely, someone close to one of them. That just leaves the question of why she left me in the first place, when she so clearly still cares.

I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger. I’ve got time—two weeks, maybe a month. I’m not letting her slip away again. Not without some answers.