Skyler looks at Cricket, her crayon pausing mid-stroke. “Are you going to marry River?”
My gut twists, and I suck in a breath, my whole body going rigid.
Kiki turns in her chair, her face flushing with embarrassment. She places a gentle hand on Skyler’s knee. “Sweetie, can you color a picture for me?”
“Sure.” Skyler digs in her backpack for more crayons, completely oblivious to the tension she just created.
I glance at Cricket to make sure she’s not upset. Her hands cover her face, her shoulders hunched inward, and for a moment, I panic that she’s crying again. I put my armaround her and lean close, catching the faint scent of her peach shampoo. “Hey, are you okay?” I whisper.
She lowers her hands to her lap, throws her head back, and laughs, making several people glance our way. “You should have seen your face when she asked me that. It was hilarious.”
Relief breezes through me, and I laugh with her, the tension draining from my shoulders. “Yeah. It took me by surprise for sure. You gotta love a five-year-old’s perspective.”
Skyler looks up at us, indignant. “I’m going to be six soon.”
This makes us laugh even harder, and even Tobias cracks a smile from across the aisle.
The plane begins to taxi down the runway, and Cricket stiffens next to me, her laughter dying away. Her fingers dig into my hand, and her breathing quickens. I grab her other hand, too, turning slightly to face her. “It’s fine. Just expect the bumps at the beginning. It will smooth out.”
The engines roar to life, and we start picking up speed. Cricket’s eyes are squeezed shut, her knuckles white where she’s gripping my hands. I keep my voice low and steady. “Remember what Skyler said? The bouncy clouds. That’s all it is.”
She does great as the plane takes off, her breathing evening out as I talk her through each sensation. When it hits a rough patch of turbulence, she sucks in a breath and her eyes fly open, but I keep talking to her in low tones, reminding her to breathe, telling her we’re safe, describing how the plane cuts through different air currents. Slowly, she relaxes into her seat, the color returning to her cheeks.
By the time we’re cruising at a high altitude, the cabin bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, we’re chatting about her book, and she’s not as anxious. Skyler has fallenasleep with her head against the window, her coloring book abandoned on the table. Across the aisle, Kiki and Tobias are having a quiet conversation.
“So, will you have time to finish another chapter this week?” I ask, genuinely curious. I’ve been dying to know what happens next in her story.
She sets her jaw with determination, a fire lighting in her blue eyes that I haven’t seen in a while. “My goal is to write the next chapter tonight.”
“Yes! That’s the way to do it.” I lean forward, excited for her. “Let me know what I can do to help.”
Cricket gets a funny look on her face, something between surprise and confusion. “What canyoudo?”
I shrug, thinking through the practical things. “I don’t know. If you’re thirsty, I can get you a soda. If you’re feeling snacky, I can make popcorn. If you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I’ll be there for you. If what you really need is peace and quiet, I’ll go in the other room and keep my music down.”
Cricket stares at me, her expression shifting to something I can’t quite read. Her eyes get glassy and she blinks rapidly like she’s fighting tears. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course I would.” I squeeze her hand, confused by her reaction. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She looks down at our joined hands, her voice coming out soft and thick. “You’ve just… you’ve never really asked what I needed before. Or offered to help with my writing.” She swipes at her eyes with her free hand. “You’ve always been supportive in general, but this feels different. Like you’re making me a priority.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. She’s right. How many times did I half listen while she talked about her stories, too focused on my next song? How many times did I dismiss her writing as a hobby while obsessing over my ownmusic career? I’ve taken her constant support for granted while giving so little in return.
“Cricket, I’m sorry.” The words feel inadequate. “You’ve always been there for me. You deserve the same from me.”
She shakes her head, a tear escaping down her cheek. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… Thank you. It means a lot.”
I reach up and catch the tear with my thumb, letting my hand linger against her cheek. “I mean it. Whatever you need. I want to be there for you the way you’ve always been there for me.”
She leans into my touch for just a moment, her eyes fluttering closed, and my heart hammers against my ribs. When she opens them again, there’s something vulnerable in her expression that makes me want to kiss her right here in front of everyone.
But I can’t. She just got dumped by River this morning. Her heart is probably still bruised, even if she’s putting on a brave face. What kind of friend would I be if I swooped in now, taking advantage of her vulnerability?
“Thank you, Micah,” she whispers, pulling back slightly and wiping her eyes. “That really means the world to me.”
We settle into a comfortable silence, her hand still in mine as the plane cuts through the sky toward home. I watch the clouds drift past the window, golden and pink in the fading sunlight, and try to figure out the right timeline.
How long do you wait after your best friend gets dumped to tell her you’re in love with her? A week? A month? Long enough that she doesn’t think you’re just trying to be her rebound but not so long that she finds someone else?
