Page 44 of Crosscurrent

Piper hit refresh again.

The screen changed.

She froze.

“Oh no,” Tom whispered immediately.

“Nobody panic,” Owen said, instantly panicking.

Piper made a strangled sound in the back of her throat.

Cara’s pulse jumped. Good reaction? Bad reaction?

Piper stared at the screen like she’d stopped understanding English. “It’s…” She swallowed hard. “It’s…”

Then her entire face broke open. “I got a 1530.”

The room detonated.

Tom grabbed her first, hauling her into a hug hard enough to spin the chair sideways. “I knew it. I absolutely knew it.”

“You literally said you were going to throw up ten minutes ago,” Skye observed.

He kissed the top of his daughter’s head. “That was unrelated.”

Wade waited until Tom finally stepped back before moving in. He rested one heavy hand on Piper’s shoulder. Quiet. Steady. But his eyes looked suspiciously bright.

“Kid,” he said, “you absolutely smoked that mission.”

Piper laughed through sudden tears.

Wade nodded once toward the screen. “Top one percent. Objective secured. Minimal casualties.”

“That is not technically how standardized testing works,” Owen began.

“Nerd,” Skye said automatically.

Piper’s phone buzzed.

She glanced at the screen and gasped. “Janelle. Sorry, guys. I have to take this.”

Tom waved her off. Best friend time was, Cara had learned by watching Piper, sacred.

Phone to her ear, Piper raced up the stairs at full speed. “Fifteen-thirty!” They heard her yell from above. “You got WHAT? That’s ridiculously good. You know that, right? Like insanely good. Brainiac.”

The basement erupted into overlapping laughter.

Tom sat down hard in the rolling chair and dragged both hands down his face.

Cara crossed toward him. “You okay?”

He looked up with damp eyes behind crooked glasses. “No,” he admitted honestly. “I’m having emotions.”

“You’re entitled.”

“I guess I am.” His gaze drifted to his bank of screens.

Habit, more than anything. Cara knew the feeling. When the feels hit, she ducked.