Family.
Does that even apply to Stone and me anymore?
“Okay, honey,”my mom gushes. “Call us as soon as you land. You’re sure you can manage your luggage alright?”
I groan. “Yes, Mom.” I’m nervous enough as it is and just want to get on with it.
“I wish you’d let us at least drive you to the airport, Han,” my mother continues as my rideshare pulls up outside.
Finally, Dad intervenes. “Lana, he’s going to be fine.” While James doesn’t baby meas much, he’s just as quick to step in if he thinks I need help. Thankfully, that occasionally includes helping me get my mom off my back.
“You’ve got all your paperwork?” James asks, pulling me in for a hug before I head out the door.
“Yes, sir,” I reply respectfully.
“Good. Do me a favor and give Stone our love, will you? I know he’s looking forward to finally being able to catch up with you.”
I highly doubt that,I thinksilently.
“Yeah, me too.” The lie sits heavily in my stomach as I hug each of them one more time.
My mom gets teary, but I don’t say anything about it. Although I live in a suite on campus, this is the first time I’ll live outside of driving distance from my parents for longer than a week at camp.
That truth sinks in as I stand in our familiar foyer, luggage at my feet, about to get on a plane by myself, that maybe,just maybe, I’m a littleglad Stone will be close by when I reach my final destination.
But first, I have to make it through these two flights.
Chapter 3
Stone
“Logan, have you seen the keys to snowmobile four?” I ask my coworker.
“Not that I recall, but feel free to check my pockets,” he says with a grin.
I’m amazed every day that Logan shows up to work with all his teeth. At some point, he’s going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person and catch a fist in the mouth.
Probably mine.
“I’m not in the mood today, Logan. Do you have them or not?” I grumble.
“Not in the moodtodaywould imply you might be in the mood a different day,” he says hopefully. “Is that true?”
I rue the day I matched with who Ithoughtwas a stranger on a gay hookup app. Sex has never been high on my priority list, but it wasn’t until recently that I started feeling like maybe that’s not normal. The thoughts were starting to consume me, and after listening to stories of Logan’s hookups four days out of the week, I began to wonder if maybe, after all this time, I’ve been wrong about what I like. In an effort to do a little research, I made aprofile and started talking to a man Ithoughtwas namedKen. Turns out his namewasKen…Kenneth Logan Kirkland.
A.k.a. my helicopter pilot.
The asshole has a picture of his abs as his profile icon, so I couldn’t tell it was him. And despitemyprofile picture bearing my face, he didn’t say jack shit. When we met up, I immediately shot him down, but he hasn’t been able to let it go. The worst part is, I haven’t gotten up the nerve to try again, and I’m just as fucking confused and frustrated as ever.
“Fuck off, Logan,” I grumble.
Not only was I late to work this morning, but it’s November fifteenth.
Hanlon is arriving today, and my mood has worsened every day since he and I talked on the phone.
People often say my name is a direct reflection of my personality. Hard as stone, unyielding, cool, unemotional.
I think I’m just good at keeping the bullshit from showing on my face, because inside, I’m a fucking mess. Logan’s antics are pissing me off more than usual lately, and his come-ons have ratcheted up a level.
