“Promise you’ll text when you land,” he says, putting the truck in park.
I nod, grinning as I unbuckle. “Only if you promise to text me back and tell me how it’s going with Olive.”
He groans. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”
“Nope.”
I hop out and shut the door behind me, adjusting the strap on my bag as I step toward the terminal. The air’s thick with goodbye, but I keep my head down until his voice stops me cold.
“You better come home, Phern. This place won’t be the same without you.”
Just like that, something cracks open in my chest. A tight ache rises, misting my eyes, but I won’t let the tears fall. I offer him a small smile.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not done with this town yet.”
With a wave to Liam, I turn and head inside. But I barely make it through the door before I stop short and blink. Twice.
Will’s standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight. Looking somehow both irritated and distractingly hot.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice catching.
He exhales through his nose. “Sam sent me.”
“To the airport?”
“To Texas.” He gives me a look like it should be obvious. “Said you didn’t need to go alone.”
My jaw drops. “I’m twenty-eight, not eight. I’m more than capable of going to Texas alone.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Not here to argue, kiddo. Just here to keep you company and stay out of your way.”
But the way his eyes linger on mine, like he’s got about a hundred unsaid things simmering under the surface? Yeah. That doesn’t feel like "just company", even if he’s throwing around kiddo again.
We don’t say much as we make our way through security, just the occasional brush of his shoulder against mine. Every time it happens, my body goes rigid, like it remembers things my mind keeps trying to forget.
At the gate, Will drops into the seat beside me and stretches out like he owns the place. I sit stiffly, arms folded, heart pounding like I’m about to do something reckless instead of fly to Texas.
When they call our group, he stands and waits for me to move first.
“You always this quiet on planes?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, even though my voice is too thin to pass for casual.
“Only when I’m trying not to say the wrong thing,” he mutters.
I glance at him. “And what would the wrong thing be, Will?”
He looks at me and his jaw clenches. “Anything I want to say to you right now.”
My stomach flips, but I don’t respond. I just keep walking.
We board in silence. I take the window seat, because I need the illusion of control. Will slides in beside me, his thigh brushing mine as he settles. He’s warm. Solid. A constant reminder of everything I’m trying not to feel.
The plane takes off, and for a long time, we sit without speaking. The silence stretches, heavy with everything unsaid. Outside, clouds blur past, but inside, it’s the weight of his presence that messes with my pulse.
Then, halfway to cruising altitude, his voice slices through the quiet like gravel and heat.
“We gonna talk about what you saw from the window?”
I turn to him slowly, my breath catching. “I don’t know. Are we going to talk about whatyousaw?”
