By the time Franklin's jet finally touched down in Manhattan, a heavy kind of exhaustion had already settled deep into his chest, not the physical sort that came from long flights or lack of sleep, but the emotional weight that built up when a man carried too many memories, too many secrets, and far too much hope all at once.
Tristan sat beside him with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck and one knee bouncing slightly, pretending to be relaxed while staring out the window.
The moment they stepped off the jet and the cold Manhattan air brushed against Franklin's skin, he pulled out his phone and dialed Nathan without hesitation, needing to anchor himself to something familiar before the next wave of chaos arrived.
"Nathan, where are you?" Franklin asked the second the
