More blushing and a little simper, and then she gets to work on renting me a private plane. I don’t even pay attention when she tells me how much it’s going to cost.
I don’t care.
I’m jumping out of my skin to get to Maia and any time in between then and now is too long.
I slip my phone out for the first time since I ran out of the hotel and find a missed call and a voice message from Maia. With trembling fingers, I hit play, bringing the phone up to my ear. Her sweet voice comes through and I just about die hearing how sad she sounds.
“Hi. It’s me. I have no idea where you are and I’m worried. I need to talk to you. About what happened earlier. About a call I got after. I need to go and you’re not here and I don’t know… I love you. I’m just going to say it so you know. I won’t be here when you return but it’s not—”
My eyes shut as my breath stalls in my chest.
She said it.
Consciously said it. Even after the way I treated her, she still said it. I dial her number immediately, but it goes to voicemail. She’s likely on the airplane now, flying up to Virginia. Alone.
“Excuse me, Carla?” She pauses what she’s doing and meets my eyes. “Will you do me a huge favor?”
34
Maia
* * *
The plane finally stops, having pulled up to the gate after what feels like the longest flight of my life. Then again, this is my first time flying coach. My first time flying commercial. My first time sitting in the middle seat in between two people, one who smelled like an ashtray coated in body odor and the other who kept taking over the armrest while invading my side of the damn line!
All this was super fun considering I got a shitty night’s sleep, had the man I love walk out the door on me, and found out my father was murdered. And to add insult to injury, our plane sat on the runway for like an extra forty minutes for no reason I could discern.
I think it’s safe to say I’m officially in a crap mood.
The thought of getting on another plane to fly into a regional airport only to then drive several hours has me near the breaking point of tears. I have no way of getting in touch with these FBI people, only the local police.
At this rate, I won’t be anywhere near Brookside before dark.
And then what?
Where do I go?
We weren’t exactly bathed in hotels or even motels when I left town. I’m alone. I have no idea where I should go. And ALL I want to do is curl up under the covers and have a good old-fashioned breakdown for the ages.
But that’s not an option, which means I need to get my shit together and find a way through.
Like I always do.
Like I always have.
Some of my best attributes are my resiliency and ability to adapt. “I’ve got this,” I mumble under my breath.
“What was that?” The guy next to me asks, an unlit cigarette already dangling from his lips.
“Nothing. But why aren’t they opening the doors to let us out?”
Just as the words pass my lips, the flight attendant gets on the loudspeaker. “Attention ladies and gentlemen. We want to thank you all again for flying with us. We apologize for the delay, but everything seems to be in order now and we will open the doors momentarily.”
“About time,” the guy grouses, checking his watch. “I’ve got a connection to make.”
Me too, I think, but don’t say. I’ve got three hours before that plane takes off. Then a four-hour drive.
I shuffle my way off the plane, turning my phone back on only to find a text from Henry, asking if I’m okay and if there’s anything he can do. One from Marco saying that Henry updated them and for me to take as much time as I need and for me to promise to call when I get where I need to be so he knows I’m safe. Even Jasper and Gus chimed in on our group chat.
But nothing from Keith.
I told him I loved him, albeit in a voice message, but still. I said the words.
And nothing.
I can’t focus on that right now. If I do, the pain will rip me apart and I’ll break down for sure.
I make my way off the plane and through the gate over to the bathroom. The line takes forever, as it always freaking does for the ladies’ room, and when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror as I’m washing my hands, I nearly gasp aloud.
I’m a disaster.
Dark circles under haunted dark eyes. Broken frown. Matted, unkempt hair.
I shouldn’t care, but I do. I don’t want to stroll back into my hometown looking like this. I want my chin up and my eyes bright and my heart strong.
I don’t feel any of that seeing myself like this.
I quickly apply some Chapstick, since that’s all I’ve got in my purse, and run some water through my hair before throwing it up into a ponytail, doing my best to tame it into submission.
“You look lovely, deary,” the elderly woman at the sink beside me says, smiling kindly at my reflection in the mirror.
“Thank you. Now I just have to get my insides to match my outsides,” I jest only we both know I’m not joking.
Her expression grows somber and serious. “You look like you can use some friendly words of wisdom.”
“Boy, can I ever.”
“The best piece of advice my grandmother ever gave was for me to direct anyone who dared to make me feel less than I am to go fuck themselves. That goes for both lover and beast, if you know what I’m saying.”
I choke on my own saliva. “Uh.”
She grins cheekily. “Clearly you’re not accustomed to old Jewish women, but yes, those were her words—well, in Yiddish—but the sentiment is the same, and that woman lived through the Holocaust.”
“Thank you,” I manage once I regain control of my voice and my breathing. “I will absolutely remember that.”
She pats my arm. “Good. Because that’s how we stay strong. If it’s the lover, he or she should never be the one you have to tell that to. If it’s the beast, those words are the difference between it owning your life and your choices and you owning them.”
In the blink of an eye, she’s gone, well, walking slowly with a haunch out of the bathroom, but in a way that suggests she didn’t just rock my world while becoming my hero.
Because she’s right.
In so many ways.
And I know exactly who deserves to hear those words from me. Because I will no longer allow the beast to own me.
Steeling my spine, I tug my suitcase behind me as I leave the bathroom, checking the signs for the way to my next terminal. “I’ve got a much better way to get you where you need to go, sweet darlin’,” a smooth whiskey baritone with a hint of a southern accent says directly behind me.
So close his breath brushes the exposed skin of my neck leaving chills in its wake.
“Oh yeah?” I question, my eyes closing as my bottom lip starts to tremble. “And what makes you think I want anything you’ve got to offer me?”
Strong arms wrap around my waist, drawing me into his even stronger chest, and I don’t have anything left in me to fight where he’s concerned.
He’s here.
He found me.
Considering I didn’t even know what flight I was getting on until I got to the airport, he had to do a bit of sleuthing to get here.