“I’M BEING WEIRD, AREN’T I?” Kael asked, picking at his fingers.

How the heck was I supposed to respond to that?

“Do you think you’re being weird?” The best way to avoid answering a question was to repeat it. I had learned that from my dad.

He let out a breath. “Yeah, probably?” he said, cracking a smile. I loved the way his whole face changed when he smiled.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I wouldn’t say weird. But one minute you’re ignoring me and the—”

“Ignoring you?” he asked, startled.

“Yeah,” I explained. “You were kind of blowing me off.”

He seemed genuinely surprised. Almost hurt. “I wasn’t trying to.” He hesitated. “It’s kind of hard to adjust to being back here. It’s been like a week and it’s just so … different? It’s hard to explain. I don’t remember it feeling this weird last time I came back.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I told him. Because I couldn’t.

“It’s the small things. Like those coffee makers with the little pods, or being able to shower every day and wash my clothes in an actual machine with those little pods.”

“I’m guessing there aren’t any tide pods in the army,” I said. My dad always hated them, so even when he returned and could use them, he refused. He liked old school powder and it grossed me out.

“Sometimes. Wives would send packages to their husbands and we would all get the hook up,” he said.

I wondered if anyone sent him packages, but didn’t ask. Besides, it was my turn to laugh now, but I didn’t. If I wanted to connect with this guy, to find out who he was, then maybe I should make the first step. Stop deflecting. Build a bridge. Find some common ground and all that. “You know,” I started, “my dad always came back acting like he just got home from Survivor. It was kind of a joke in our house. Not that it was funny.” I was so bad at this. I was overthinking every single word that came out of my mouth.

“It’s fine.” He smiled, obviously amused by my ramblings. He looked at me straight on. “Honestly, Karina. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

I kept going, more relaxed now—reassured. “He would crave the weirdest things, and eat Taco Bell for a week straight after coming home.”

Kael nodded slowly, sucking on his lips. “How many times has he gone?”

“Four.”

“Wow.” Kael blew out a breath. “I’m over here complaining about two,” he said, laughing weakly.

“That’s a lot, though. And you’re my age. I’m over here complaining about zero.”

“Did you ever think about joining?”

I shook my head so quickly.

“The army? Nope. No way. Austin and I always said we wouldn’t.”

I sounded like those creepy twins you read about in sappy books where they make weird promises to each other. One lives in the shadows and the other has to live out their twin’s legacy. I didn’t want to think about which role I played in that saga.

“Why not? Just not your thing?” Kael asked me.

“I don’t know,” I started. Careful, Karina, I warned myself. I didn’t want to offend him, but my mouth was known for spitting out words without my brain’s approval.

“We just agreed one day. I don’t remember what even triggered it, but my dad was deep into his third deployment and …”

I could picture the smoke as it billowed through the hallways. I smelled the fire before I saw it.

“And my mom made … well, let’s just say she made a mess in the living room. A charred mess.”

Kael looked at me, puzzled.

“She said it was from a glue gun, like for crafts? But it was a cigarette. She fell asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette in her hand, and had barely woken up when I came rushing down the stairs to find the room filled with smoke. It was crazy,” I told him.

A few people came out of the house. A few people went in. Party traffic. I stopped talking. The last guy to come out was wearing a plain white T-shirt with a red stain on the chest. I stopped my imagination from turning a pizza sauce stain into anything else. Kael kept his eyes on me the whole time. It was intense, the way he looked at me. The bottom of my tummy ached and eventually, I had to break eye contact with him. Pizza stain guy walked down the steps and got into his car. I recognized him from the kitchen. He was one of Austin’s quiet friends. The quiet guys always left first.

“And then?” Kael encouraged.

“She was walking toward the door, just straight forward, headed for the door like she was going out to buy milk or some orange juice. She didn’t yell for us. She didn’t look for us. No … nothing.”

Kael cleared his throat. I gauged his expression to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable with the details.

“So … you know those quizzes where they ask you what you would save if your house was on fire?”

“Not really,” he said.

“I guess it’s like a Facebook thing. They ask what possessions you would save if your house was burning down and your answer is supposed to reveal your personality. If you say you’d save your wedding album, that says one thing about you. But if your choice is to save your vinyl collection, that says something else.”

Kael raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t ever heard of anything so absurd.

“I know, right?” I continued with my story. “Anyway, it’s so insane, but the smoke was growing and as I rushed up the stairs to get Austin, I remember thinking, that quiz is the most ridiculous thing ever. Who would even think about possessions at a time like this … But then I was thinking about that stupid quiz so what does that say about me.”

“I think it says that your mind was keeping you from panicking. I think it says that you have good instincts.”

I let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “So, I ran up to Austin’s room and shook him awake. We ran downstairs together—he was leading now, squeezing my wrist, so hard, and when we got outside to the lawn, our mother was standing there just watching the smoke. It wasn’t like she had tried to set the house on fire, nothing like that. More like she didn’t even realize what was going on.”

“Karina …”

“It was like one of those old movies, you know, where the madwoman starts the fire and just gets mesmerized by it, like she just goes into a trance—” I laughed a little, not wanting to be awkward. “Sorry, all of my stories are over the top.”

“Karina …” God, I loved the way he said my name.

“Oh, it’s—” I was going to say, it’s okay. That’s what I always said when I told this story. Not that I told it often. But the thing was, sitting in the dark with Kael beside me, urging me on, listening, not judging … Well, I knew that it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all. I could have been killed. Austin could have been killed. It was so not okay. But what was not okay was usually my reality.