“Good,” I said quietly. “That’s good.”
The coffeepot sputtered and hissed. I leaned against the counter and waited, letting the warmth of the brewing pot drift up toward my face.
The cafeteria sat quiet around us.
Ethan spoke again, his voice a little softer.
“My mom would’ve loved this place.”
I looked over at him.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “She had this whole thing about aquariums, could spend a whole afternoon in one.”
He spun the Coke can between his palms.
“My dad pretends he hates them, but he actually stands in front of the tank watching the fish.”
I laughed.
“Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Your secret’s safe.”
I poured my coffee and sat down across from him; the mugwarmed my hands. For a moment, the world outside those walls didn’t exist.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Two half-sisters. But does that count?”
Ethan laughed—a short, honest sound that faded quicker than it should have. He looked down at the table, spinning the Coke can in slow circles.
After a moment, his voice dropped.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
He swallowed, as if he’d been rehearsing this and still couldn’t get the words to sit right.
“You think… we’re gonna die?”
The question hung between us.
He tried to shrug it off—casually, but the fear behind his eyes gave him away. Sixteen years old, broad shoulders and a deep voice, and a kid’s terror sitting right there beneath the surface, plain as day.
I leaned forward and set my mug down.
“No,” I said. Firm. No hesitation.
He looked up. “No?”
“No.”
I took a sip of coffee and held his gaze.
“You know why?”