“See ya later, babe.”
I shudder. “Bye, Mike.”
Security doesn’t take long, and I’m at my gate within twenty minutes of parting ways with my ex-boyfriend. Even if he wouldn’t call himself that, I do.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Sitting with my carry-on between my spread legs, I pull it out.
Lefty
Hey, have you boarded yet?
Boarding starts in thirty minutes.
I just got to the airport. I won’t make it in until tomorrow. Are you getting a rental?
No. I’m going to Uber to our hotel.
Red-eye?
Yeah. Upgraded to first class
I’m not a snob. My twin senses are tingling.
Ass
I wasn’t even thinking anything.
Whatever.
I don’t respond, because I can see the dots popping up. They come and go. Then she finally says:
I’ve missed you, Ayden.
A soft laugh falls from my lips.
It’s somber, and if it weren’t for what Alysa always says—“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry”—I think I’d be crying right here in Terminal A, Gate 14.
You were the one that moved to London.
I’ve missed you too, sis.
I justwish it weren’t under these circumstances, but I’m glad I get to see you regardless.
Ten days ago, our dad, along with our stepmother, were killed in a head-on collision. They were driving back to their home in Colorado from Scottsdale, Arizona, when a wrong-way driver in a semi slammed into them.
Their deaths were instant; so said the officer that called and told me the news. To be honest, I’m surprised I remember the conversation as vividly as I do. I felt so numb the moment the words “They’re dead. I’m sorry for your loss”slipped through the phone and into my ears.
My elbow presses down hard on my right leg in an attempt to stop the bouncing it’s doing. An unconscious tick of mine.
I had to call Alysa and tell her, and after that, our mom. She told methanks, and said she’d send flowers to the funeral. Bitter bitch. I’d done her the courtesy of calling, she could’ve done the same, and sounded even a little empathetic to us. That just solidified the reason we were raised by our dad.
Leaning back, I type out my final text before shutting off my phone.
Love you, lefty. See you when you get in tomorrow.
Shutting my eyes, I listen for them calling the first-class passengers to prepare for boarding first. It mixes in with the soft echoes of conversation around me and the hum of children getting out their energy.
Dragging my hand up through my short hair, I groan.
