I sag against the uncomfortable seat. It’s not helping my aching body at all. “I’m terrified. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing. He’s going to get home and be mad. He’s not going to know what happened. What if he sees my phone and sees that I called you and tries to come stop me?”
“I doubt very seriously he would cause a scene at the airport, and once we’re in the air, there’s not much he can do.”
He’s got a lot of reach, though, and I’m not sure Austin realizes that. He’s got judges and cops in his back pocket. He knows people all over the city. He could be having me watched right now.
My stomach drops out, and I sit up straighter, eyes darting around the airport.
“Whoa, whoa,” Austin says, instantly on alert too. “What’s going on?”
“What if he’s watching?” I whisper.
“Luca.” Austin’s voice is firm. Not mean, not angry, just firm, but it still makes me flinch. I slowly turn to face him. He looks concerned. “He’s not going to come find you. He doesn’t know where I live. Once we’re in the air, he won’t have a clue where we are, okay?”
I try hard to believe that. I really do. I think this fear means something. It’s the fear of being caught, and the only reason I fear that is because I don’t know what he’d do to me if he found me. That should be enough for me to know that I’m not making a mistake at all.
Austin nudges my thigh. “Do you remember that time we went camping in the woods behind the old McMurray place?”
I can’t help it, I laugh, and it feels so fucking freeing. “How could I forget?”
Austin smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “When we heard that noise in the middle of the night, I thought forsureyou were going to climb into my sleeping bag with me.”
“I considered it. I’m not sure why we thought it would be a good idea to watch theTexas Chainsaw Massacreand then go into the woods.”
“What did I tell you that night?” Austin asks softly.
The smile slides off my face. “You said that anything that wanted to hurt me would have to go through you first.”
He nods. “I did, and I still mean that, Luc. You did the hard part. Calling me? That was you watching theTexas Chainsaw Massacre.This?” he says, gesturing around the airport. “This is the part where we’re in the woods. You survived that night, and you’re going to survive this too. And just like back then, he’ll have to get through me before he gets to hurt you again.”
“You should be the writer, not me,” I say, my eyes burning with the force of trying to hold back my tears. “Why did you drop everything and run for me?”
“That’s a silly question, but I’ll answer it anyway. You’ve been my best friend since we were in diapers, Luc. A couple of years of us barely talking can’t erase sixteen years of us being shoved up each other’s asses.”
I nod slowly. “Thank you.”
Austin shakes his head. “No need to thank me. You’d do the same thing for me.”
Would I? I’d like to think so. But I’m not sure Austin ever would have gotten himself into this position to begin with. “You’re right.”
“I know I am.”
Before I can respond, they call for us to board. Austin picks upmy bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
I stand, following him to the line. He’s got our boarding passes in his hand, and now that we’re in line, everyone is openly staring. I know what they’re thinking, or at least I can guess. My face looks terrible, but my throat looks even worse, and I know that. I know it looks awful, but it’s not like I can do anything about it.
I try to keep my eyes away from theirs. I just need to get on the plane and get out of here. Austin’s right. This is the woods. Dark and twisty and noisy with creaks and thumps, but Ididsurvive that night. I’ve survived Damien, and I can survive this too.
I really fucking hate that they all keep looking at me, though. I raise my hand to cover my throat, trying to give myself at least a little protection.
“Hey, Luc?” When I turn, Austin is pulling his scarf off his neck. It’s nothing fancy. Just a gray knit scarf. He’s had it on since he got here earlier today. He holds it between us. “Can I?”
My heart’s in my throat, but I nod. Austin won’t hurt me. I know this. He wouldn’t.
He’s careful. Methodical. His fingertips barely graze my jaw as he wraps the scarf around my throat. His brow furrows as he tugs it up around my chin, careful not to make it too tight, then he tucks the end. After another couple of quick adjustments, he smiles. “There. That covers the worst of it.”
My heart aches at the tenderness. I can’t remember the last time someone did something like that for me. It’s just a scarf around my neck. But all of Damien’s gentle touches follow fists. His gifts follow pain. His non-apologies leave me hurting and wanting more.
Austin’s not even doing it to hide me because he’s ashamed that his friend let himself get into this position. He’s doing it toprotectme.
