Again

That was such a wonderful vacation. Thank you for everything 😘

Yeah, not bad at all 😉

I ended up with two of your camera batteries in my suitcase. Want me to swing by today and drop them off?

I slept till one 🥱 Still moving slow. Got some errands to run, but after seven, someone’ll definitely be home.

Cool. After seven it is. Still yawning every ten minutes, Aidan sat down to sort through both his physical and digital mail. The digital pile had been untouched for ten days—and mostly, it could’ve stayed that way. The highlights were: an update from his agent listing which publications and galleries she’d reached out to and who had already replied; a note from his doctor saying he’d be ready to go over Aidan’s test results as soon as they came in; and a message from Caitlin: Where are my souvenirs? Google says there’s beer, waffles, crystal, and garnet. Garnet will age me for the next twenty-five years, I don’t eat waffles… Crystal? Acceptable. I’m waiting. On top of the stack of physical mail sat an envelope from the clinic, followed by a bulky packet from the insurance company. Aidan ignored them both and went to see what he looked like after a vacation that full-on. The apartment—which had felt weirdly unfamiliar when he came home the night before—was already starting to feel normal again. No need to adjust to the weather: it was nearly identical to Prague’s, just without the added math of trying to decode what all this Celsius meant. The lighting in their bathroom was far better than the hotel’s, so he got a full view of his unshaven, slightly puffy face. He stepped into the shower—and suddenly remembered how, last night, after finally collapsing onto his side of the bed, he’d flinched when Noah, half-asleep, had rolled over and wrapped his arms around him. “Hey,” Noah had murmured. The touch had felt shockingly unfamiliar. So had the smell. Aidan had actually held his breath until he got lightheaded, hoping something would shift. Hoping the smell would click into place—husband, home, safe. It didn’t. Eventually, he’d fallen asleep curled toward his own pillow. Hence the under-eye bags. And the slightly gray skin tone. “This is ridiculous,” Aidan muttered, dripping water across the floor as he headed for the bedroom. He grabbed one of Noah’s T-shirts, pressed it to his nose. No revulsion. But no thrill either. He took the shirt with him and dropped it into the hamper—along with everything from his vacation bag. Since he had errands that evening in Sherman, it would’ve been weirdnotto swing by for Noah—his school was right there. Life was edging back into its regular shape, and it didn’t seem wise to slow that down by doing anything out of the ordinary. Aidan hadn’t. He’d confirmed that Bailey was still at work, and now he waited out front—a fairly modern two-story building—occasionally offering short hellos to the older students who still remembered his face and waved at him excitedly from the not-very-large parking lot. Soon, Noah appeared—smiling. “I don’t want to sound like one of the lovesick teenagers I’m forced to observe on a daily basis,” he said, giving his husband averyPG-rated kiss, “but those were a lo-o-o-o-ong ten days.” “No argument here,” Aidan nodded. “Something actually changed while we were gone—it’s fully autumn now. I need to shoot something for fashion before it disappears.” “So?” Noah asked. “Oh—architecture that’s seven hundred years old, cheap beer, reliable public transit, incredible museums. You should’ve come.” “I didn’t mean the trip.” “What else, then?” Aidan stared extra hard at the road. It was a high school zone, after all—lots of distracted teenagers. “They sent the histology results.” “Oh. Right.” Aidan somehow managed to confuse the turn signal with the windshield wipers, and the driver in the next car gave him a look that was both mocking and judgmental. “I haven’t checked yet.” “Seriously?” “A few hours won’t change anything. Besides, maybe I was waiting for you.” “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you—but odds are the news is reassuring, and you’re just stalling.” “Yeah, Bailey. You’re definitely not pressuring me. Thanks for that.” “I get that you’re nervous.” “What a gift it is to have such an understanding husband. Shit. Sorry. How’s work?” “We’re reading Achebe. Things Fall Apart. The kids are just thrilled about a 19th-century Nigerian tragedy, obviously. We also went to the museum—” “I hope it was the mustard museum?” “Shockingly, no. This time it was Chazem.” “Oh, did you show them Caviner’s L’Amante? Because if you didn’t, how can you call yourself a mentor to the youth?” “Of course I showed it. Who do you think I am?” “Are they writing 1200-word essays on it?” “So you want me to win Most Hated Teacher of the Year?” “You could never. You’re too attractive. It throws them off. Every time they try to hate you, they forget what they were mad about.” “You flatter me.” “I’m your husband. It’s my right. Maybe even my duty.” By the time they made it home, the atmosphere had almost completely smoothed out. Aidan silently praised himself for how quickly he was reacclimating. And those tiny adjustments his body kept making—probably not even noticeable. Sure, maybe he’d pulled in his stomach when Noah hugged him, as if trying to put a little extra space between them… But that could’ve had a totally normal explanation. Sometimes core tension was just… core tension, right? Just a spontaneous muscle contraction. No reason. They were in the middle of a lighthearted argument over who had to feed Ewan—(obviously Aidan, since the cat hadn’t seen him in ten days and might start to believe Noah was the only one who loved him)—when the intercom buzzed. “Oh, that’s probably Blake,” Aidan said, heading toward it backwards so no one could sneakily steal his rightful title of cat feeder. When Cooper stepped inside, Aidan hugged him immediately. Nothing unusual there. But the instinct to go for his mouth—thatwas harder to explain. They both froze the second they realized what had almost happened. A jerky kiss to the cheek followed—awkwardly performed like an afterthought, to justify their pause at eye level. Aidan stepped back fast, cleared his throat. “Okay, why don’t we open that cursed envelope right now? If it’s something horrible and I pass out, it’ll be easier for you two to drag me to the hospital.” “Sure,” Blake said, heading toward the living room. Noah handed Aidan the envelope, but he recoiled. “No way. You read it. Not out loud. Just tell me yes or no.” He pressed his forehead against his husband’s shoulder. Blake gently ran a hand down his back, over the tremor he didn’t acknowledge. Noah pulled out a single sheet and scanned it quickly. Apparently not quickly enough. “Why are you dragging this out? I thought words were your thing!” “Okay, okay—here: benign. No sign of malignancy.” “Oh god.” Aidan collapsed into someone’s arms—probably Noah’s, but honestly, it didn’t matter. “I’m not dying. Well—not from this.” “It says you’ll still need to go over the details with your doctor,” Bailey offered. “Why? I already got the important part. Fuuuuuuuuck. I need a drink. Do we have anything?” “Probably,” Noah said, handing him off to Blake and heading for the cabinet. “Oh, almost forgot—camera batteries.” Blake dug into his pocket and set them on the table. “We should let Caitlin know.” “You’ll text her?” “Yeah. So… I should go,” he added, not sounding all that certain, especially with Aidan still half-wrapped around him, either trying to inhale him or just struggling to breathe. “Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” Aidan muttered, making no effort to let go. “Wait. I’ll walk you to your car.” Noah gave them a mildly puzzled glance but didn’t say anything—he was busy deciding which of the three remaining wine bottles best fit the occasion. On the stairs, Aidan stopped Blake by grabbing his hand. “Did you plan this?” “What? No! We were packing last minute, it was a mess… Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up finding some of my stuff.” “I already unpacked. Nothing of yours.” He took a tiny step closer. “Well. Good then.” “Last night ended so stupidly. Rushed. And that asshole Jeff… I didn’t even kiss you goodbye.” “I thought we said goodbye on the plane.” “No. This is it.” “But…” The pause after that but made it clear Blake hadn’t figured out what came next. And it lasted just long enough for Aidan to catch his lower lip between his own—no resistance at all. The kiss didn’t break until voices floated up from the street below. “That’s it,” Blake said, gently pulling Aidan’s hand out from under his shirt. “Yeah.” “Shit, you’ve got beard burn,” Blake murmured, tilting Aidan’s chin up. “You’d better go kiss Bailey. Or distract him somehow. Your eyes look absolutely wrecked.” He stepped back. “Stay here. Count to a hundred. Bye.” “Bye. I’m okay.” “I’m glad. Me too.”

***

Almost all of late October passed with Aidan Moore—the now visibly rising photographer—on the move up and down the West Coast. Strictly speaking, his constant presence wasn’t necessary. But he’d made a convincing case that flying home every four days was expensive and exhausting. Better to use the gaps between shoots to scout new locations, meet with a few journalists who insisted on face-to-face interviews, and track down new models. Noah agreed. He understood that time zones and packed schedules didn’t exactly lend themselves to long daily calls. He acknowledged that it made sense to take advantage of every career opportunity while they were still coming in. He nodded when Aidan promised they’d spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas together—just a little longer, almost there. But he also couldn’t help saying that four weeks wasn’t exactly short. That maybe, if it wasn’t too much trouble, they could find a way to see each other sooner. Please. Aidan agreed it was a good idea to show up in person for Caitlin’s birthday. So, he'd make everyone’s life better by being back in town for a couple of days, starting November second. He started complaining about Wisconsin weather before he even left the airport. He wanted California’s reliable, near-eighty degrees. Being told that Madison had technically hit the low sixties that afternoon did absolutely nothing to improve his mood. Noah’s low-pressure hints that he’d missed his husband—and that maybe, before bed, they could spend fifteen mutually pleasant minutes reinforcing the bonds of matrimony—were politely declined. Aidan explained that he felt a cold coming on, and of course he didn’t want to infect anyone. Blame the dry airplane air. And the snotty kids seated nearby. Honestly, he might have to skip Caitlin’s party now too. What a shame. By morning, the symptoms had miraculously disappeared. But Noah had to work—he was the weekend supervisor for students stuck with detention. Sometime during the morning, Aidan’s mood shifted. And by the time Bailey got home, he was granted near-instant access to his husband’s genitals—and promptly returned the favor. So the Bailey-Moore household arrived at the Young residence in more or less their usual state. The birthday girl was radiant and took immediate care to remind everyone present that she was, without a doubt, now a woman in her thirties, and thus deserved the highest respect. Possibly even reverence. Arguing with her was pointless, though someone tried—suggesting that being roughly in the same age bracket made reverence a bit of a stretch. You know. Peer-to-peer. For this he was told to shut it, having overlooked two key facts:       1. It was her birthday.       2. She was a woman. And while the first point was unassailable, the second drew gentle protest—something about gender equality. “Don’t be ridiculous, Moore,” Kate replied with a smirk. “I’ll always be above you.” And to be fair, it was hard to picture Caitlin Beth bowing to anyone. The other way around? No problem at all. At some point during the evening, Young got emotional—Aidan earned a few sharp pokes, each immediately followed by kisses and a slightly teary monologue about how he was never allowed to disappear from her life like that again. It had already taken enough therapy to recover from him terrifying everyone with his stupid mole situation. This conversation took place in her bedroom, of course—Kate refused to cry in public. And Moore and Cooper, apparently, didn’t count as public. Once everyone had calmed down and the hostess returned to her guests, Blake asked: “You really think it’s okay to just… not talk to me at all?” “I messaged the group chat almost every day. What are you talking about?” Aidan was looking off to the side. “If I’d known it was going to end like this, I never would’ve agreed to ‘fun, low-pressure sex with no strings,’” Blake sighed. “Stop putting it in quotes. That’s exactly what it was. There. I was one hundred and fifty percent ready to come home and go back to normal.” “But something went wrong?” “Something definitely went wrong,” Aidan said, staring glassily at Blake’s collarbones— his hand landing on Blake’s chest like it had nothing to do with him. Blake placed his own hand over it, gently, and whispered: “We can’t. We really can’t.” “But why? It just feels like—like a stupid waste of life to not use something this…amazing. It feels pointless.” There was a massive pause. “What about Noah?” Blake asked softly. Aidan twitched, annoyed. “I don’t know yet. Sometimes I even miss him… But it’s not the same. I don’t feel like I’ll die if I never see him again.” “…Does that ever actually happen?” That made Aidan finally lift his gaze and meet Blake’s eyes. “Yeah. No. Probably not,” he murmured—then pressed his forehead to Blake’s, took his hands, and just stood there. Breathing. Eyes closed. Inhale. Hold it. Don’t say anything else. Clench teeth. A pathetic, shaking exhale. The second breath came easier. By the third, he felt lips on his—and the relief was so immense, it felt like every bone in his body had turned to vapor. His whole form scattered like nanodust, like it didn’t even exist anymore. Then just as quickly, it reassembled. Same body. Same skin. But someone else was standing there now. Someone who’d completely forgotten where they were. Someone whose entire timeline had narrowed to the next five seconds. And as long as the kiss lasted, that was enough. Everything had been warm, blurred static—just breath and blood and nothing else—until a single phrase managed to break the surface: “What here costs less than fifty bucks?” Blake was digging around on the dresser behind him. “Don’t touch anything. She’ll kill us if we lay a finger on one of her creams… Actually, she’ll kill us anyway if she ever finds out what happened in here, so—check the nightstand. Just don’t tell me what’s in it. I’m clinging to the idea that Caitlin Beth is a pure, unsullied angel.” “Shit, there’s just some kind of massage oil in here. I hope it’s—” “Just move!” Aidan tossed something from the vanity. “I found wipes. Makeup remover, whatever. I don’t care.” He kissed him again, harder this time, already working at Blake’s pants. His hand closed around Blake’s cock—and he exhaled, smiling against his mouth: “There you are. How is it that my hand still knows your dick better than my own luggage?” Blake didn’t say anything. He just pushed Aidan’s shirt up and closed his mouth around his nipple. Aidan arched. Something fell off the dresser. No sound of breaking glass—so neither of them bothered checking. They knew exactly what to do. Not a single move wasted. Slippery hands—also not spared from the oil—traced down his back before settling on his ass. Possibly too firm a grip. But the right kind of too firm, and there were no complaints. They weren’t looking away anymore. Between quick, shallow kisses, they breathed into each other’s faces—no pretending. Nothing casual. Just need. In the end, Blake bit down on his lower lip and let his head fall back. Aidan had to muffle himself against his shoulder, leaving a damp patch behind. Once they’d caught their breath and cleaned up, they sat on the bed, doing their best to look like people with functioning brains. Eyes straight ahead, Aidan said: “I’m flying back here next Saturday.” “Can’t. I’m busy. I can do Friday.” “Okay. Friday. Your place.”

***

“What’s going on in here?” Blake mumbled, blinking his way into the kitchen. “Shit! For a second I thought you were naked.” “What? It’s a gas stove. Safety first. But if you’d prefer me to break a few rules…” Aidan untied the apron with a flourish. “Nope! No, no, we’re good,” Blake said quickly, stepping in to hug him and retie the straps. “This is better. Someone might walk in. Is that breakfast?” “No, I’m doing a commercial shoot—everything’s rubber and foam.” Aidan deadpanned, then added, “Yes, of course it’s breakfast. You just didn’t say I had to clear out by a certain hour, so I took some liberties.” “Ah. Right. You’ve got, max, three hours.” “Perfect. I’ll check the flight schedule—figure out when I’m arriving today.” “Wait—so you—” “No, I didn’t tell Bailey I’d be in Madison this weekend. I wasn’t sure how things would go. Next time I’ll plan more carefully.” “Next time… huh.” “What about it?” “Nothing. Sunday, probably.” “Cool.” “So you’re just gonna show up at home today without warning?” “Yep.” “You’re not worried he’ll—” “I really want him to. But he won’t. I actually brought up the idea of opening our relationship before I left the first time, but he’s just… not into it.” “God. How can you twonothave an open marriage? It’s absurd.” “Exactly! And now it’s weird—like, we never actually talked about any of this before, so I guess we were both just… living according to our own assumptions? But once the question came up, and we hit an actual disagreement—I mean,Iknow we’re totally not aligned. But Bailey seems to think that my silence equals agreement. Like… are we officially in a monogamous marriage now?!” “Hate to break it to you, but technically that was always the official setting—unless you’ve formally negotiated an upgrade.” “That’s ridiculous. We need to fix this.” “How?” “I can’t think on an empty stomach.” Breakfast ended with the two of them cleaning up. Which, obviously, led to Aidan “helping” by pressing himself up against Blake’s ass—barely covered by one thin layer of fabric—and suggesting things might go a lot faster if that barrier were removed too. Blake held him off. Successfully. But not for long. He did manage to gasp out, “Oh god, not on the table—!”…before getting bentoversaid table. Which, apparently, was the more acceptable option. No further complaints were heard—only what could generously be categorized as approval. After that, they had no choice but to head back to bed for at least an hour. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Aidan mumbled: “I’d move in with you.” “Sorry—what?” “Just… if that were ever a thing. Hypothetically. I wouldn’t say no.” “Hypothetically. Mmm.” “You don’t think we could live together?” “No, I think we totally could. In total isolation. Because everyone else would hate us. Literally everyone. Even Caitlin. Even your grandma.” “No, I wouldn’t move straight out of the Bailey-Moore residence and into yours. I’d take a couple months. Find a place that allows cats.” “You seriously think Noah would let you keep Ewan?” “Shit. Yeah. Honestly… I wouldn’t want to have to choose. Can’t I just keep everyone?” “Who’s ‘everyone’ in this scenario? Because it sounds like you just added a cat to your polycule.” “You and Bailey, obviously. There’s so much in that relationship I don’t want to lose.” “Okay. Let’s… not do anything for now, yeah?” Blake propped himself up on one elbow, brushing a hand across Aidan’s cheek. “Okay. I’ll wait,” Aidan said with a smile, pulling him in.

***

Group chats had seen it all. Accidentally sent photos. Location updates. Birthday wishes. Links to god knows what. But sometimes, a simple message—like:

“Flight delayed🙁 Will be with you by midnight😙”

Could trigger way bigger consequences than a nude or a credit card’s backside. This particular chat had four people: Noah J. Bailey, Aid Moore😏, Blake, and It’s ME!👑 Aid Moore😏, who had authored that particular message about a later-than-expected arrival, was stuck in Detroit, where a three-hour layover had casually turned into six with a single blink of the departure board. He was tired, irritated, and now, increasingly drunk. Before leaving L.A., he’d been bouncing between personal messages with Blake and the group chat. Somehow, the exasperated “Fucking Delta!” landed only on Blake’s screen while all the finer details reached everyone. Cooper managed to signal the mishap quickly, and the info vanished almost immediately. Still, since that “immediate” window lasted nearly five minutes, it left everyone guessing who had caught wind of it. Moore had called Blake in a full panic: “What do I do?” But Blake stayed calm. He told him Caitlin would immediately know the message wasn’t meant for her—and if Noah had seen it and taken it personally, well…Aidan would just have to go see him. After briefly slamming his forehead against a plastic table of questionable cleanliness, Aidan agreed there wasn’t much else to do. Over the next two hours, Bailey remained silent— no messages, no reaction. So, when Aidan landed in Madison, the plan stayed the same. He called a cab to Yarrow Hill Drive. Only this time, parked next to Blake’s car was a BMW. And the second he stepped out, its furious owner launched herself at him. She grabbed him—practically by the collar—jammed the buzzer without letting go until someone opened the door, shoved him inside, and slammed the door behind them. Then stood there, back pressed to it, with a look that made one thingveryclear: Nobody was getting out of here alive. “All right, you disgusting little bastards,” Caitlin hissed. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is. Tell me you’re planning a surprise for Noah’s birthday, or I swear to god I’m gonna throw up on this floor.” “My bag’s still outside,” Aidan said, staying near the door, like she might be rabid. “You’re not going anywhere, Moore. Start talking. And spare me the details unless you want me decorating the rug.” “It’s not what you—” Blake started. Aidan just looked at him, surprised. Caitlin was not surprised. She stormed across the room and slapped him. “Don’t. You. Dare. Insult. My. Intelligence,” she spat, jabbing a finger into his chest—nail dangerously sharp. “Oh, come on, babe,” Aidan said, almost smiling, wrapping an arm around Blake. “It is what you think.” He nodded. “How is this even possible?! You swore you were just friends when I tried to set you up!” “Which, for the record, wasafterI got together with Noah,” Aidan pointed out.“ So technically, you started this.” “I didn’t even believe you and Noah would last! But now—Oh my god. Noah!” She spun toward the window like she expected him to be standing there in the dark. He wasn’t. She turned back, eyes wild. “Stop this. Now.” “No,” Aidan said. Blake just sighed. “I’m going to tell him.” “We’re gonna have to kill you,” Aidan muttered. “You’re not telling him. Anyway… it’s going to resolve soon. One way or another.” “And which way would that be?” Aidan glanced at Blake, hoping for help—but he still wasn’t saying anything. So Aidan had to be the one to speak. “You’ll know. As soon as it happens.” “I can’t look at either of you,” Caitlin whispered, hands shaking as she pulled out her phone. “I’m deleting your numbers. Right now. Don’t try to contact me. This is too much. It’s vile. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you.” She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Blake went to retrieve Aidan’s bag, which had somehow ended up half in the road. When he came back, he said quietly: “She’s right.” “And? Should I leave? Right now, in the middle of the night?” “No, of course not. But…” “I’m already here. It’s been a nightmare of a day. Can I… not sleep on the couch?” “Yeah. You can stay.” “Thanks,” Aidan said, kissing him quickly before heading upstairs. “You’re very kind.”

***

Somehow, they hadn’t managed to make a plan before Aidan left. And now it was Wednesday— still no ticket, not even a date set. He was stuck in a classic Los Angeles traffic jam, once again trying to get a straight answer out of Blake, who hadn’t responded since the night before. Not that it meant anything was wrong. But still. It was… slightly, just barely, annoying. Out of habit, Aidan opened the chat with Caitlin to say hi—and just as quickly remembered that wasn’t an option. Notyet.Maybe not anymore. The cheap rental car was a delight, as always—offering the faintest possible weird smell, a dead USB port, and a mark on the fake leather of the passenger seat that looked suspiciously like a bite. That mark was what he found himself staring at again, idly wondering what had happened here, and whether he should check the trunk for blood—when a notification buzzed in. The phone was tossed on the passenger seat, connected to a power bank. The traffic wasn’t going anywhere. He could do literally anything and no one would notice. The guy in the Ford next to him was full-on laughing at something on a tablet, and Aidan briefly thought about asking what he was watching. Might make the time pass faster. The message was from Cooper: Can I call you? They didn’t usually talk during the day. But it wasn’t that strange. Nothing about it felt like a warning. Aidan called him first. “Babe, if you make me wait another day, I’m gonna end up spending my last dollar on a ticket.” “Aidan…” Blake’s voice sounded off. Serious. Maybe the most serious Aidan had ever heard it. “What’s going on?” The car ahead rolled forward a foot. He didn’t even register it. “I’m sorry to do this over the phone. But if you were here… it’d be worse.” “Cooper—” Aidan’s tone shifted, sharp and dangerous. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now, okay? Caitlin just overreacted. It’s going to be fine, do you hear me? I’m gonna check flights for tonight and—” “Don’t.” “Of course I will! I want to see you. You don’t seem to get what’s actually happening here.” “What’s happening is something that shouldn’t be.” “Not like this, no. I agree. Okay. Fine. I’ll come anyway and go talk to Bailey first—” His face was burning. He could barely feel the phone in his hand; he was gripping it so tight it could’ve been on fire from the faulty charging. Part of him wished it would just explode. “Maybe you should do that,” Blake said. “But not because of me. This was supposed to be vacation-only. We went way over the limit. But now it’s done.” “You can’t—” “I can’t.” “If you leave me like this, there’s no coming back. You know that, right?” “I’m not leaving you. That would require us having actually been something. Which we weren’t. We weren’t—anything.” “Are you out of your mind?” “…Maybe. But it’s still the truth.” “No. No, it’s not.” “God, are you really making me say it out loud?” Blake muttered to himself. Then, apparently answering his own question, he added, “There’s… someone else.” “Hilarious.” “I’m serious.” “When the hell did that happen?” “June. Roughly.” “What?!” The traffic ahead lurched forward—six feet, maybe more—and for the first time in minutes, Aidan paid attention to the horns blaring behind him. He hit the gas. Only he didn’t move six feet. He went almost seven. And stopped deep in someone else’s bumper. He yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed his backpack, and opened the door mid-swarm. Two lanes of cars boxed him in. There was no space to squeeze through. So he kicked the nearest fender, climbed up onto the hood, and scanned the freeway. People were shouting. Someone leaned out of their car yelling something unintelligible. He heard “Police!” being tossed around from somewhere nearby. He jumped onto the next car over—then dropped down to the dusty shoulder. He ran down a slope to a shuttered gas station, slid down beside a plastic-wrapped pump, and finally sat. Back against faded signage. Phone still pressed to his ear. Blake hadn’t hung up. That lying son of a bitch was still there. “You had a million chances to tell me.” “Maybe. But I figured you wouldn’t understand. And so many things happened—your wedding, the trip…” “Yeah. The trip.” “You need to calm down.” “And you need to understand just how— You know what? Never mind.” He took a breath, already shaking. “Congratulations, Cooper. Six months! That’s something, huh? You’ve never pulled that off before. Incredible. How did you do it? Is it because you’ve got a dozen options on rotation and you just wait to see who holds out the longest? Good for you.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Just hung up. He wanted to throw the phone—hard—but he still needed it to get home. So instead, he slammed his fist against the side of the pump, then stood up.