“Thanks for nothing—” My phone dies before I can get the final word out and have the satisfaction of hanging up on the poor woman on the other end of the line, who’s just doing her job, and I stare at it in disbelief. Did I even think to pack my damn charger when I threw my stuff into a bag?
With a glare thrown toward everyone anywhere near me, I step up to the counter and glance from Jamie to the woman in the blue uniform across from us. But as if she can read my mind, she shakes her head.
“No?” I question, my eyes bugging the hell out of my head. “No, what?”
Seriously... Who the hell did I piss off in a past life? Because it had to be someone powerful.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But there are no rooms left. What I can do, is give you a voucher with a free upgrade?—”
“A free...” I trail off. “No rooms? Like none?” This is not happening. It can’t be. It’s a sick joke. It’s gotta be. “Do you know when my flight will be rescheduled?”
“They’ve grounded all flights in and out of Chicago, ma’am.”
My heart sinks with my stomach, and I miss whatever else the woman says.
No flight.
No hotel room.
It’s over an hour drive to my apartment, and there’s no way I’m getting an Uber in this weather.
“Come on, Ace. I got a room,” Jamie tugs my arm gently, pulling me from my self-imposed pity party.
“What?” I ask, dazed. Why would I go anywhere with him?
The room tilts, and I stand still, staring at the giant next to me.
Shit. When was the last time I ate?
“A room. I got the last one,” he repeats, and my head spins.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Murphy,” the same woman behind the counter smiles and flutters her lashes like she’s not old enough to be Jamie’s grandmother. “Cross the bridge right over there and take the shuttle to the Hilton. They’ll have your room ready for you.”
“Thanks, darlin’,” Jamie drawls like he’s a southern gentleman.
The asshole’s from Philadelphia. We’re morefuck around and find outthanbless your heart, but whatever works for him.
“What about our flights?” I bite back, unsure if I’m directing my question to the flirty grandma or to Jamie.
“Your app will be updated just as soon as there’s any additional information, Miss.” Little Miss Blue Hair smiles. “We don’t currently expect any flights in or out of the airport for the remainder of today. Tomorrow will depend on the storm.”
“Tomorrow...” I whisper as I’m shoved from the right before Jamie moves himself between me and the teenager with a phone in his face and wireless headphones covering his ears, currently rolling his eyes so hard, I’m surprised they haven’t fallen out of his head.
“Come on, Ace. Let’s get out of here before all these people find out they’re stuck on these chairs for the night.” He shoulders both our bags and holds my rolling carry-on like it weighs nothing as his other hand tightens around mine.
With deft movement, Jamie navigates Chicago O’Hare like he’s been here hundreds of times, and I follow like I trust the jackass.I don’t. Not really. Or at least not that I’ll admit. His brother, Finn, I’d trust with my life. Jamie might be bigger and probably stronger than Finn, but he loves his younger brother and would never do anything to hurt him. One of his few good qualities. So I’m going to trust that he won’t screw me over tonight.
Not exactly the same thing as trusting him, but it’ll have to do.
His big body stays between me and anyone who comes remotely close to me as we cling to the poles of the airport shuttle. His ball cap, the same dark green of his coat, is pulled low over his eyes, not sure if he’s trying to stay low-key so people don’t realize the Philadelphia Kings star linebacker is on the shuttle with them or to hide the fact that the former president’s grandson is next to them. Even two decades later, I know Finn still gets noticed for his political connections. Their mom is a senator, and her father has long been considered one of the most influential presidents in the past hundred years.
Their family is impressive. Mine is . . . not.
I mean, my dad did play pro football with Jamie’s dad a lifetime ago. But he makes a much better coach than he did player. He’s actually Jamie’s offensive line coach for the Kings. But he’s also a shit dad and was a shit husband. At least before he and Mom got divorced. But I could say the same for Mom. Bad parent. Bad partner. Bad human in general. Even before our family shattered.
Ahh . . . Family. Gotta love it.
“This is us.” Jamie’s warm breath brushes against my skin before he drops his hand from the pole between us and grabs my bags. “Come on, Ashton.”
