The plane touches down before either of them is truly ready to face the desert.
Leo wakes to the subtle, aggressive jolt of the landing gear meeting the tarmac—a vibration that travels through the floor, into his boots, and settles deep in his bones. For a disorienting second, he forgets the miles they’ve traveled. Then the cabin lights brighten with a clinical hum, and the voice of the flight attendant announces their arrival with a practiced, hollow cheer.
Las Vegas.
Spike stirs beside him, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His jaw is set tight, a clear sign that he never truly found the sleep he was chasing. Neither of them did. The weight of the last few days clings to them like a second skin: their father’s quiet, lingering illness; their mother’s forced, fragile str
