“Being there. Being present with someone who . . .” He paused. “Someone who made you feel like you mattered.”
The plane dropped again. Not as hard.
“I had a place like that,” she said. “In Germany. This little café near our house. They made the best apple strudel I’ve ever had.” A small smile. “I’d go there after school and practice my German with the owner. Frau Keller. She was patient with me, even when I butchered the pronunciation.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It was. I was hoping we might stay.” Her knuckles went white on the armrest. “I had friends. Real friends. We’d meet at the café every Friday. And I was getting good at the language. Really good. I could think in German, dream in it.”
“What happened?”
“My dad got reassigned Stateside. Three months before my fifteenth birthday.” She stared straight ahead. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. Just . . . left.”
The plane bucked. Hard.
Dakota’s hand shot out and caught hers.
Not gentle. Not a comfort gesture. Pure instinct—anchoring himself, anchoring her, the contact sudden and tight.
The plane dropped.
Really dropped.
His stomach lifted into his throat. The guy by the window had woken up, now opened the shade and stared out into the darkness. Around them, passengers screamed. Overhead bins rattled. The flight attendants had retreated to their jump seats, strapped in, faces tight. A phone clattered to the floor somewhere behind them.
And then they were level again.
His hand stayed locked around hers. Her fingers gripped back, hard enough to hurt.
Neither of them let go. Not grabbing. Just resting there. A point of contact in the chaos.
The captain’s voice crackled again. “Flight crew, prepare for landing.”
A pause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to ask you to assume the brace position on my command. When we land, please leave all personal belongings and exit the aircraft as quickly as possible. Flight attendants will direct you to the appropriate exits. Please listen carefully to their instructions.”
The cabin went silent.
Then someone screamed.
It broke the spell. Suddenly everyone was talking, crying, praying. The flight attendants moved down the aisle with grim faces, demonstrating the brace position, their voices calm and clear over the chaos.
“Head down. Arms over your head. Stay in that position until we come to a complete stop.”
Jayden’s hand tightened on his. “Dakota.”
He turned to look at her. Her face drained of color, her eyes went wide, but she kept her breathing steady. Fear showed in every line of her body—anyone would be terrified—but she held herself together.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “I’m glad I sat next to you.”
Oh. And his heart gave a small, rebellious thump.
“We’re going to be okay,” he said. “The pilots know what they’re doing. Fiji has a good runway. We’re going to land, and we’re going to walk off this plane, and I’m going to buy you the worst airport coffee you’ve ever had.”
She laughed—a small, shaky sound. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
