People were starting to move aside for the cop, though, and he was inching up on them.
Cole glanced in the rearview, then up ahead. They were a few yards from the curb at the start of Departures. Not ideal, but it would have to do.
He nosed his way in between another pair of cars, prompting more middle fingers and honks.
Then he put the car in Park. “Go!”
“What?” Will asked, but Cole was already getting out, and apparently Will clocked that this wasn’t the time to ask questions.
Cole hobbled around the front of the car as horns blew and people shouted out their open windows. The cop’s siren blared behind them.
And suddenly his plan wasn’t nearly as doable because his knee fuckinghurt.
He just had to make it to the curb. Make it into the building. Then… he didn’t know. Have Will push him on a luggage cart? Something?
But his knee buckled. When he tried to take another step, he cried out because it hurt a lot more than he’d expected.
Oh, shit. This wasn’t going to work. They were going to?—
For the second time in as many nights, Will’s arm was around him, hauling him to his feet, and they were sprinting toward the curb. Cole was mostly hopping, but Will was practically carrying him at that point. It was awkward as hell, and Cole’s knee was furious, but they made it. Past the cars. Onto the curb. Into the airport.
“Downstairs,” Cole gritted out.
“Downstairs?”
“Trust me.”
Will apparently either trusted him or didn’t have any better ideas, and he hurried toward the elevators with Cole still leaning on him.
There was commotion behind them. Shouts. Running feet.
Will ducked them around an alcove and leaned Cole against the wall. “Your jacket. Take it off.”
Cole didn’t ask questions. They both took off their jackets and dropped them. When they stepped out of the alcove, Will took out his phone.
“You said you booked the flight with American?” he asked loudly and angrily. Jiggling his phone in Cole’s face, he exclaimed, “Quenton, this reservation isDelta!”
Cole blinked. Then he saw the cops darting around in the semi-crowded check-in area. He shifted so all his weight was on his good leg, and he hopefully gave off an air of impatience instead of favoring one knee.
“I told you it was Delta!” He took out of his own phone and waved it in Will’s face. “You wanted me to go with American, but I told you my miles only worked for?—”
“Hey! You two!” A cop halted beside them and eyed them. “Did you just come in through that door?”
Cole fought the urge to roll his eyes.
Yeah, dude, we totally did and we’re absolutely going to admit it to you because that won’t make you suspicious at all.
“No,” Cole snapped. “We’ve been here for forty-five goddamned minutes because this idiot”—he flailed his phone at Will—“can’t figure out which check-in desk we need to?—”
“That’s because you can’t keep your damned story straight!” Will shouted. “You said American! You told me that like forty times, and?—”
“When have I ever flown American, Burt?” Cole threw back. “Seriously. When? Because?—”
“Gentlemen, can you just tell me if?—”
“I always fly Delta. I have always flown Delta. You’ve literally heard me say?—”
“I literally heard you say that this time, you booked American, and?—”
