It did. It felt too big.
Kenzie Taylor knew it well. The long-haul flights, the hotel keys piling up in his nightstand drawer, the voicemails heâd leave at odd hoursâ âHey, kiddo, just landed in Singapore. Tell your brother to behave.â The silence that followed wasnât empty. It was full of small, sharp things: Mom humming too loudly in the kitchen, the dryer squeaking because Dad wasnât there to fix it, and the way the stairs didnât creak at 6:15 PM when he came home from work.
She didnât text Dad. She didnât want him to worry from half a world away. Instead, she whispered to Leo, âWeâre the backup crew, remember? Weâve got this.â When Dad Is Away Ii Kenzie Taylor
Kenzie was seventeen. Old enough to drive, young enough to still feel the weight of a missing parent like a stone in her shoe.
She smiled, then hated how much she needed the words. It did
And for the first time in three weeks, the houseâs heartbeat felt just right again.
Kenzie didnât call. Instead, she crawled under the desk, unplugged every cord, then plugged them back in one by one. The light turned green. She stood up, dusted off her knees, and said nothing. The long-haul flights, the hotel keys piling up
This time, the trip was three weeks. A consulting emergency in Dubai. Mom tried to keep things normalâspaghetti on Tuesdays, laundry on Sundaysâbut normal had shifted. Kenzie found herself taking over the small things. She started the coffee maker each morning the way Dad did, even though she didnât drink coffee. She checked the garage door twice before bed. She sat in his leather armchair one night, just to see if it felt different.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
Leo fell asleep. Kenzie stayed awake until the storm passed.