I was handing him a real road, narrow and hard, but real, and I think he heard the difference, the way you can hear the difference between someone who is comforting you and someone who actually has a plan.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah.

I can do that.”

“Good.” I squeezed his wrists once more, hard.

“Now go to bed.

You’ve got a long day of pretending ahead of you, and so do I.

Chapter 16 — Four Hours Over the Continent