I close my eyes briefly. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
The cab hits a pothole, and my stomach lurches dangerously close to rebellion. I groan and press my forehead to the cool glass of the window.
“Breathe. You’re not dying. You’re just anxious,” she soothes.
“I’m not anxious,” I reply weakly.
She snorts. “Kate. You agreed to fly to Somalia. Anxiety is implied.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again because she’s not wrong. Somalia still doesn’t feel real. It feels like a word on a screen, a headline—somewhere far away that exists in theory but not in my reality.
And yet here I am, in a cab, on my way to the airport, with a passport in my bag and a pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know why I said yes,” I lament with a groan.
Addison softens, just a fraction. “Because you’re curious, good at what you do, and because sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone is how you grow.”
I glance at her. “Did you read that on a motivational poster?”
She grins. “Maybe.”
The cab slows as the airport comes into view—glass and steel rising ahead of us, familiar and suddenly menacing. My pulse picks up, fast and shallow, and I curl my fingers into the strap of my bag.
Addison reaches across the seat and squeezes my knee. “Hey. We’re not going to a warzone. We’re covering peace talks. You’ll be with me the whole time.”
I nod, even though the reassurance barely scratches the surface.
The cab pulls into the drop-off lane, and the driver pops the trunk. I take one last steadying breath before opening the door, cold air rushing in and snapping against my skin.
This is happening, whether I’m ready or not.
I step out onto the pavement, the airport looming above us, and my stomach flips hard enough that I have to pause. Something about this feels like standing on the edge of something irreversible, and I don’t know yet how far the fall goes.
The moment I step inside, it hits me.
Not the noise, though the airport is already alive with it—rolling suitcases and overlapping announcements and voices layered on top of one another—but thememory.It slides under my skin before I can brace for it, like my body has been waiting for this exact set of cues.
The rooftop flashes behind my eyes without permission—cold air, city lights, his hands, mouth, and the way silence wrapped around him. I feel it low in my stomach, the echo of something reckless and unrepeatable.
“Kate.”
Addison’s voice snaps me back. I blink and realize she’s watching me closely, head tilted, a knowing little smile already forming. “You just went somewhere.”
“I did not,” I protest.
“You absolutely did.” She leans closer, lowering her voice like she’s about to share a state secret. “You were thinking about him.”
“I was not.”
She lifts a brow. “Cinnamon?”
I grimace. “Please don’t.”
“Oh, I will. Because that face? That is not a woman thinking about baggage claim. That is a woman remembering questionable life choices.”
I sigh, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder and forcing myself to keep moving. “It was one night.”
