I thank her and walk down the jetway, pulling the strap of my bag over my head, a line of wrinkles creasing my shirt across my chest.
My flight is not at all full, and a little over halfway back, there’s a completely empty row. Not a soul on either side of the aisle and plenty of space overhead for my bag. I pull my noise-canceling headphones free, stow the bag above my seat, and settle in by the window.
While I still have a hot minute, I tap out a text to Chloe. I doubt she’s available, but I want her to know I’m thinking of her.
Miles: I’ll be home tonight.
I fasten my seat belt and slide my big headphones over my ears, the sounds of the announcements fading away to nothing. I scroll through my playlist, selecting one that I use for relaxation, meditation, whatever it’s called. I’m about to switch to Airplane mode when a reply pops up on my screen.
Chloe: I can’t wait to see you.
A stupid big smile stretches across my face. I type out a quickI love you, and my thumb hovers over the Send button.Should I? Should I wait?
The flight attendant stops in the aisle next to my row.
I pull back one side of my headphones, so I don’t speak too loudly. “Got it. Airplane mode.” I tap the icon on the screen and turn it for her to see.
And then I close my eyes, allowing the peaceful feeling of a job well done, my task complete, to wash over me. The plane propels forward down the runway, pushing me deep into my seat, and California drops away.
The quiet shiftand collective waking of the passengers on the plane pull me out of the sleep of the dead.
“Sir, we’re on our final approach to Norfolk. I need you to face forward and fasten your seat belt, please,” the attendant says softly.
With slow, stiff movements, I drag my leg off the seat next to me and turn myself in the seat. My knees are wedged into the back of the seat in front of me, my clothes are a wrinkled mess, and I want a toothbrush more than anything. But I feel amazing. On top of the world. Finally at peace.
I stretch my arms over my head, vertebrae shifting and popping. The only tension sitting in my neck and shoulders is from sleeping in a funky position, and even that’s not bad. On missions, I caughtZs in less comfortable places for sure.
The attendant comes through the cabin again, her bag out, collecting trash. I slept through the entire flight. A full seven hours.
The only other time that happens is when I’m wrapped around Chloe, her tucked into my chest and my arm locked securely around her waist. There’s no soft, sleepy wake-up though. She tends to jump from the bed, panicked and throwing clothes at me as she pulls on whatever she’s got close. Then, she ushers me down the hall, still trying to keep our sleepovers from Jake.
I wanted to laugh the first time she shoved me into the guest room across the hall from Jake’s room, intent on hiding the fact that I’d spent the night. Even bleary-eyed with sleep, stumbling to the bathroom, Jake noticed me and that the guest bed hadn’tbeen slept in. He even backed up a couple steps and rubbed his eyes, taking in the perfectly placed mountain of throw pillows.
The kid is way smarter than Chloe wants to admit. Knew all the mechanics of sex when I finally bit the bullet and took him out to havethe talk. Someone had to make sure he knew what was going on, and Chloe flat-out told me she was ostriching hard on that one—head in the sand in full avoidance mode.
But he knew. Knew about girls and sure as hell knew that I hadn’t crawled sleepily into the guest room after staying up late to finish a movie, like Chloe had told him. Her stuttering and nerves alone would have clued him in if he needed the extra push.
The whine of the engines shifts, the captain mumbles his unintelligible spiel through the speakers, and then the tires squeal against the tarmac.
I’m home.
My mind races with all the things I want to say, all the things I want to do. I slide to the aisle seat, headphones in hand, my thumb tapping against the hard plastic. As soon as the plane is at the gate, I’m up and out of my seat snagging my bag. Headphones tucked away, I throw the strap of my duffel across my chest and wrap an arm around it, holding it close.
I nod to the attendants, thank the captain, and hit the ground, moving out with a purpose. It’s on the shuttle halfway to long-term parking before I remember to take my phone off Airplane mode. I bounce the black plastic case against my thigh, debating on giving Chloe a heads-up on my plans for her tonight, to see if I need to pick anything up on my way over.
Still weighing the pros and cons, I step out of the shuttle and make the short walk to my truck—not Maggie. She’s not one I’d leave unattended in the airport parking lot for a week. I throw my bag in the backseat and climb behind the wheel, rolling thewindows down to let the cool night air in. My phone connects to Bluetooth and immediately rings with a call.
“Ryan? What’s going on?” I pull through the toll lane and swipe my card to pay for parking.
In no way could I ever suspect, let alone prepare for, what’s about to hit me.
“Miles, I don’t know how to tell you this. There aren’t words to express how sorry?—”
Training takes over, pushing emotion aside, and I steer my vehicle to the shoulder and hit the hazard lights. Whatever Ryan needs to tell me, I need to focus. “What happened?” I demand, voice steady and low.
Ryan hesitates and stutters, something I’ve never heard the man do in all the time I’ve known him. “Aly… The staff, they…”
“Ryan, spit it out. Tell me what happened.”
