But right now, there’s nothing I can do except press my forehead against the cold window and disappear inside myself. My therapist says I do this when my thoughts are stuck on an endless loop, when my mind becomes a cage and my body has no other way to cope. Whatever. It’s the only thing keeping me together as the flight drags on, the plane rattling through the night sky. I zone out completely.
Then, slowly, the horizon begins to glow.
Sunrise.
I should be at work right now. I should be in the kitchen, pulling trays of pastries from the ovens, the scent of butter and sugar filling the air. Instead, I’m trapped in this tin can, hurtling toward a future I don’t understand. And I can’t even call in. My phone is gone, and without it, I know nothing. No numbers, no way to reach anyone.
Arlene is going to lose her mind. I’ve never missed a day in all the years I’ve worked there. A frayed thread of panic tightens in my chest. My phone is my lifeline. It has everything, my contacts, my baked goods orders, my medication alerts.
Shit. I didn’t take my meds this morning.
What time is it?
I pull my gaze away from the window, ready to ask, but the words die in my throat. Damian is watching me.
The moment I meet his stare, my pulse stumbles, then takes off at a sprint. His gaze is thick, weighted, almost tangible in the dim light of the cabin. It coils around me, stealing the air from my lungs, pinning me in place. The space between us hums, charged with something electric, something I don’t know howto name. It crackles over my skin, burning through my nerves, setting every inch of me on high alert.
Seconds stretch into eternity, and he doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
I’mnotworth it, huh?
A shrill ringtone shatters the silence, cutting through the thick air between us. The moment is gone so fast, I almost question if it ever happened at all.
Bridger swipes at his phone, his voice clipped and sharp as he speaks. “Where the fuck can she be? Did you check?”
A chill ripples across my skin at his tone. Whatever this is, it’s serious. My attention flicks between him and Damian, my thoughts scattering. Something is definitely going on. The way they exchange glances, rapid, tense, shifting from worry to fury and back again, makes the air inside the small cabin feel heavier.
I lean toward Damian, who’s listening without a word, his face impossible to read. “What’s happening?” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.
“Good talk, thanks,” I mutter.
He still doesn’t respond.
Bridger stands abruptly and begins pacing though the cramped space of the cabin. He can barely take three steps before he has to turn around. “Yeah, okay,” he grunts. “We’ll be on the ground in about forty minutes.”
Forty minutes, then this will be over. I’ll find the money, buy a return ticket, and go back home on a real airplane. A commercial one with flight attendants and free snacks. All I have to do is pray my credit card has enough room to cover the cost.
I snap my fingers in front of Damian’s face. “What time is it?”
He grunts, rubbing his temple. “Six fifteen.”
I lean forward, unlatching the small compartment where my backpack is stashed. I yank it out, gripping it tightly.
Damian drags a hand through his hair, his expression dark. Bridger keeps pacing, muscles taut, lips tight.
Something definitely happened. Something bad.
Maybe at the bakery. Maybe Taylor got away.Good.I hope she did.
Maybe she’s on her way to help me.
I unzip the front pocket of my bag and pull out my meds. Maybe, just maybe, Taylor made it to the police. Maybe those assholes, my father included, are already cuffed and crammed into the back of a squad car. I hope Joel gets a full-body cavity search. The thought makes me smile as I swallow my pill dry.
Damian is in my space before I even have time to register his movement.
