Page 67 of The Long Way Home
I’m not surprised Rhett made it to the library, or that he knew exactly where I’d be sitting. Older brothers’ best friends do things like this, I guess—show up when you’re crumblingfrom academic stress and forgetting to eat. He probably feels obligated. A kindness reflex. I doubt he even thinks twice.
He nudges my flashcards aside, deliberately breaking my hyper-focus. “Come on. Give yourself five minutes. Talk to me. Pretend I’m not about to be a real adult with a salary and an apartment and an espresso machine.”
“I already do,” I mutter under my breath.
His grin deepens. “Rude.”
I lean back and study him. Dark brown hair curls around his ears again, too long because he forgot a haircut. Hoodie. Athletic shorts. The same beat-up white sneakers he refuses to replace. Every detail feels unchanged.
But something in him isn’t the same. His posture is more certain, his voice more sure. He knows who he is now, where he’s headed. Maybe it’s the job waiting for him after graduation. Maybe it’s that senior-year calm I haven’t earned. Whatever it is, it makes the space between us feel different.
He is already stepping into the next part of his life, and I’m still standing here, pretending I’m not counting the days until he’s gone.
I look away before my thoughts get tangled.
“Five minutes,” I say, lifting the Gatorade to my lips. “Then I’m back to memorizing brain parts.”
“Five minutes.”
“You nervous?” I ask.
“About graduating?”
“Yeah.”
He leans back while his fingers lace behind his head, the hoodie stretching slightly across his shoulders.
“Not really. I’m ready to be out of here. To be on my own. But I’m not ready to stop seeing you and Josh every day, though.”
I don’t respond. His words settle over me, and my throat tightens before I even understand why.
“What?” His voice softens.
I twist the Gatorade cap back on, focusing on the click. “Oh, nothing. I think I’m just tired.”
I clear my throat and shift in my seat. “What day are you moving back home?”
Rhett leans forward, fingers spinning one of my pens slowly. “Well, next Saturday’s graduation, and our landlord gave us until Monday to be fully out. So… probably Monday.”
I nod, watching the pen roll too fast, then slow, then speed up again. “When do you start at the station?”
“Not until July. I’m taking June off. Just need time to breathe. There’s a bit of training, but mostly a break.”
I nod again, slower this time. “Is your dad excited to have you back near him?”
He smiles without thinking, that easy curve of his mouth making it’s way where it belongs. “Yeah. Actually, I think he is. It’ll be nice. We’ve never really had this kind of time together before.”
I toy with the edge of my flashcard pile, flipping one between my fingers without reading it. “And what, I’ll see you, in what, three weeks? There’s no way you and Josh can go longer than that without hanging out.”
“Yeah,” he says. “It shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll only be about thirty minutes from his place. So you’re not getting rid of me yet.”
And when his knee bumps mine under the table, I don’t move it. I could shift. Pretend I didn’t feel it. Act too focused to notice.
But I don’t. It’s steady. Familiar in a way I haven’t allowed myself to think too hard about.
Suddenly, five minutes doesn’t feel like enough.
I lean deeper into the quiet between us, eyes flicking back to my notes. I try to focus, sit up straighter, and grab myhighlighter, pretending I mean business. My eyes scan the same three sentences twice. The words blur.
