“Oh, no. I got it. It’s just my violin and my big purse.” She pats the large crossbody bag hanging at her hip, then adjusts the strap of her case again. “I’ll let you take my suitcase, though.” She smiles again.
“Deal.” I gesture toward the baggage claim, and we start moving in that direction, standing on the outskirts of the clusterof people who are all waiting, some alone, others in pairs or groups. I don’t mention it, but this part’s the oddest about flying in the off-season. For games, the team charters a plane, so we don’t have to stand around in an airport and wait for our gear.
Sometimes people think I’m bragging if I comment on that, though, so I keep the thought to myself. I had to do this when I flew to Madison to visit my parents, after all, so it’s not like it’s some weird thing I’m completely unused to.
“Did you get everything wrapped up that you wanted to back in Wisconsin?”
She turns to me, eyes wide, and then she seems to shake herself out of a daze. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m super tired. I had to wake up at three in the morning.” Leaning into me, she rests a hand on my arm. “Can you believe it? In college, I’d stayupuntil three in the morning fairly regularly. But waking up at that time?” She shakes her head, dropping her hand from my arm. “It’s disgusting.”
Grinning at her characterization of that time of the morning, I nonchalantly cross my arms so I can cover the spot where she rested her hand, as though to preserve that bit of contact. As though I need to. As though she might not ever touch me again.
All of that is ridiculous, of course. She’s living with me now. For now. We’re saying hello, not goodbye.
“You managed it, though, I see. You didn’t miss your flight.”
“Nope. Got there in plenty of time. Dropped off the rental car—thank you again for that, by the way.” I wave off her thanks, and she mimics me. “Don’t wave away my gratitude. That’s rude. Anyway. I made it to my gate with plenty of time, which was nice because I was able to get some coffee and a bagel.”
“Ohhh, fancy. A bagel. I thought you were a just-coffee-for-breakfast girl.”
She shrugs, turning to face the baggage carousel when the buzzer sounds, meaning bags will start coming out in just asecond. “I needed a little more this morning. Three o’clock wake up, remember?”
“You gonna need a nap?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. Or I’ll just go to bed at some ridiculously early hour.”
“Well, I don’t have anything planned for today. I can drive you around and show you the sights, or we can just head straight back to my place. It’s your call.”
A giant yawn looks like it’s about to unhinge her jaw, and when she looks at me again, her eyes are watering. “Uh, I think your place is good. Idowant to see the sights, though. Raincheck?”
“Of course. If you’re up for it, we could hit a few places tomorrow. There are iconic spots you have to see. Plus, people will ask if you’ve been to Pike Place or the Space Needle. And you’re in luck today. The mountain’s out.”
Another wide-eyed look. “What does that mean?”
“Mt. Rainier. A lot of the time it’s too cloudy or misty to see, but today’s gorgeous, so you’ll get a clear view.”
“Noted.” She looks at the carousel again, and says, “Oh. There’s my suitcase,” just as it goes around the corner.
“Which one?”
“The tan one with a neon green tag. It’ll come back around, though. We can wait until the crowd thins out.”
When she’s practically swaying on her feet from how tired she is? Nah. We’re getting out of here sooner rather than later.
I muscle my way through the crowd nearly blocking our access to the carousel and wait, using my bulk to subtly take up as much space as I can. When I see a tan suitcase with a neon green tag come back around, I reach and yank it up, propping it on the edge as I turn to Hailey and give a thumbs up.
She’s grinning as she gives me a thumbs up in response, though even her grin is a little bleary.
Is she going to fall asleep in the car on the way home?
After extending the handle, I roll her suitcase over to her and pull out my keys. “I’m in the parking lot over this way.”
She adjusts the strap of her case one more time, and I bite my lip to keep myself from offering to take it. I know she’ll say no. Then she nods. “Lead the way, good sir.”
Smirking, I start for the door, glancing behind me to make sure she’s there. She gives me a tiny smile, her face settling back into overt exhaustion immediately after.
Yeah. Home, and then she’s taking a nap. Even if she doesn’t do it on purpose, I’m sure she’ll fall asleep on the couch.
I point out some landmarks as we drive to my place, and Hailey hums acknowledgment to most of them, but once we’re away from the interesting sights, she lapses into total silence. When I glance at her at a stoplight, she has her head leaning against the window and her eyes closed.
