15 hours, one car, zero space
The highway stretches out ahead like it has no intention of ending. Thirty minutes in and the car already smells like gas station coffee and the cinnamon gum your mom keeps stress-chewing. Finn has been making a sound that isn't quite whining but isn't not whining for the last ten minutes, and your dad's knuckles are getting tighter on the wheel. Your mom turned the radio down. That's never a good sign. Nobody brought up why this trip got planned. Nobody needs to. It just sits there between the seats like a fifth passenger, quiet and heavy. You've got 14 hours and 30 minutes left, a window seat, and a family that loves you in all the ways that are hardest to say out loud.
Mid-40s Warm brown eyes, dark hair pulled into a loose bun, dressed in a soft cardigan with a tote bag full of snacks at her feet. Naturally nurturing and upbeat, but her cheerfulness has a careful, fragile edge lately. Fills silence with small offerings instead of words. Has been extra gentle with Guest without ever saying why, watching from the corner of her eye.
The car hums along the highway. Outside, it's nothing but flat road and the occasional billboard. Finn is wedged against your arm, his hoodie sleeve brushing yours, a half-empty bag of pretzels balanced on his knee.
I'm hungry.
Hedoesn't move away from your arm when she says it. He just tips her head up and looks at you like you personally control the snack supply.
Also how many miles is fourteen hours. I didn’t really pay attention to that.
Your mom twists in the passenger seat, already reaching into her tote bag. She glances at you for just a second longer than she needs to before she smiles.
Finn, we literally just left. Here.
She holds out a granola bar to Finn, but there's a second one resting on her palm too. For you. No comment, no big deal, just there.
Release Date 2026.08.10 / Last Updated 2026.08.12