“I hear ya, baby sister. The world has become a fucked up place. All we can do is try to make it better instead of worse.”
“We’re here already?” I ask, yawning. That decaf coffee didn’t help. Ugh, decaf.
We get our luggage, and Linc takes care of everything. I take a seat in one of the chairs in the terminal and begin the wait to board the plane headed to Los Angeles—and Xander.
I people watch. It's interesting watching people, trying to figure out where they're from or where they're going. It was part of my therapy when I got to the point I could do it, to look at people—I meanreallylook at people and imagine what they’re thinking or doing, where they’re going,etc.
A businessman in a well-tailored navy suit hurries down the walkway, weaving effortlessly between the other travelers. He's an experienced traveler, I deduce. He's probably hopping a plane to DC for some political thing. He carries himself like a politician or lawyer.
"What're you doing?" Linc asks.
"People watching."
"No one's going to hurt you, T."
I thought that once, too.I give him a forced smile. "Not with you here, my hulk-like brother."
He flexes his arm then smacks the muscle with his other hand. "No way they'd get through me."
I snort when I notice more than one woman standing and staring.
"Stop flexing. Either that or start handing out drool rags," I tease.
Linc looks up and chuckles. He nods at the women. "Ladies."
"I'm surprised they didn't giggle like schoolgirls."
Linc wiggles his eyebrows. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Ack," I reply. Yeah, my brother has muscles upon muscles, and I can see the appeal. I suppose he's not bad looking in a bad boy kind of way.
"Stop staring," Linc tells me.
I shrug. "Just trying to see what they see."
He leans back in his chair. "I'm pure awesome from head to toe."
I laugh. "You stole that from Xander, didn't you?"
He shakes his head. "Nope, just expanded it and added 'from head to toe'."
"Well done, big brother. Well done."
Someone sits in the bank of chairs behind mine I smell it—whiskey on their breath and cigarette smoke that clings to their clothes and hair. It reminds me ofthem. I get icy, numb from fear. I sit and listen. Will he say something?
"Stop, Tera. It’s not him,” he says.
And it’s not—him. Them.
I snap my anxiety wristband, reminding myself I am in control, not my anxiety. I snap it again and reassure myself no one's going to hurt me. I snap it a third and final time, then close my eyes and take calming breaths just as I learned in therapy. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again. Again. Again. I finally feel calm.
“Royal’s got someone coming with one of those cart things. He refuses to let, and I quote, 'your hot sister walk so far. That wouldn't be gentlemanly.'" Linc scoffs. "That guy has had the hots for you since the day I met him."
I laugh. "He is hot and muscular and sweet—"
Linc heckles when I say the word sweet.
"But I'm not in the market for a new man. I've already got one," I answer.
