She looked at her watch.
Almost four hours ago.
It felt like four days now that her ass was down.
When she was walking around the airport and managing her sugar and trying to get information, she had wished time would have stood still as she went from one gate to another hoping to get on any other flight.
No dice though.
She should have just stayed right where she was and saved herself those three bags of Scooby Doo treats she’d needed to stop her lows.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sure you’re thinking of your food options, how many snacks you can buy to have close to you if you need them. Everyone is doing the same thing.”
“You’re not helping matters any.” And it made her wonder why he was pushing so much.
He shrugged. “As I said, I had a friend in college. Lived in the same dorm as me. I know the things that went through his head. He was neurotic about it. I get it. It’s scary. I’ve seen him when his sugar was thirty-eight once and, let me tell you, I’d never been so scared in my life. He didn’t even know what he was saying while me and two other friends shoved gummy bears down his throat for ten minutes straight.”
If it wasn’t for the fact that Rowan could understand exactly what she’d gone through in her life, she wouldn’t even consider this.
“Been there and done that,” she said. “But I spent more of my life on the other end of it until I could turn it around.”
“Ahhh,” he said. “Damon was a bear when his sugar was high. He could snap your head off faster than me stepping on a cold twig.”
“I’m not that bad,” she said. “Just emotional. But I don’t let myself get that high anymore.”
Nor sick if she could help it.
Most medications made her insulin resistant. That lovely Catch 22 she had to play anytime she got an infection.
“I hate to put the pressure on,” he said. “Or make you feel as if you have to say yes, but I’d like to get out of here. The ice is going to make it here within the hour.”
She stood. Her choices were limited and he’d done nothing but help her so far. “I’ll go with you if it’s not an inconvenience.”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s going to be a long walk to my car. Do you need some sugar?”
Again. He got it.
She pulled her phone out, saw her number was 150. “I’m good. I’m used to being on my feet all day and moving. This wouldn’t be much different if the emotions weren’t added to it.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” he said. “Try to stay close as we move through the people. If you lose me, just shout my name.”
“I won’t lose you,” she said. “Because I’m grabbing onto your bag.”
He laughed, his blue eyes finding humor in their situation. “A carry-on bag brought us together. Get it?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Do you normally have a weird sense of humor?”
“I say what comes to me. Sometimes it’s funny, other times not so much. Could be why my brothers and I beat on each other so much growing up.”
She wanted to ask him more about that, but it was hard to keep up a conversation with the noise of the airport and dodging people left and right.
When they finally stepped outside, the cold air slammed into her face, and she knew right away she would’ve been freezing once she settled inside the airport.
It’s not as if she had anything warmer than the fleece she was wearing.
Rowan took his jacket off and handed it to her.
“No,” she said. “I’ll be fine. Keep it.”
