Chapter Nine
The next three and a half hours are nothing short of mayhem as Wyhtt runs constant interference between Jensen and I. Apparently, my somewhat baby tantrum—which I admit, was a tad more violent than it needed to be—gave Wyhtt concern for Jensen’s life. If I caused that much damage to Wyhtt—who is still claiming foul play—he swore I might just stab Jensen to death. I personally think the big bad military man should have been able to handle my little ol’ punch much better, though in addition to the swelling, his jaw is starting to take on a red and purple tint.
Jensen vocalizes his amusement at the situation before trying to shove Wyhtt out of his way to get to me. I think it’s his attempt at hugging me, but Wyhtt was having none of it. Like a goddamn guard dog, Wyhtt pulls Jensen back before he’s able to reach me.
Once I compose myself enough, the three of us continue waiting for my luggage that never comes, leaving me only with my carry on. Meaning for the next week all I have is a book, my laptop, my various chargers, a hoodie, my curling iron, and my toothbrush—thank gods. My carry on was meticulously packed, a book to read throughout the week, my laptop in case work needs me, a hoodie for when I irrefutably become cold this week after getting a sunburn, and my curling iron—which was the last thing I packed since it needed time to cool down. Shortly after the attendant tells us my luggage is lost, my tears begin to fall.
Wyhtt immediately jumps into older brother mode. I can’t help but giggle at the instantaneous change in behavior as soon as the first tear hits my cheek. I wasn’t overly upset over the luggage if I’m being honest, the luggage was more so the tipping point—the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’ve been so stressed and anxious to be back here, to see Jensen and Wyhtt after all this time that being reunited with my boys was so overwhelming from stepping off the plane to punching Wyhtt.
A small sliver somewhere within me had questioned—had worried—when I saw the whites of their eyes, I would no longer recognize the souls staring back at me. The stress and anxiety vanished the moment I saw them both standing, waiting for me feet away from the baggage claim carousel. They no longer ooze the boyish charm I grew up with, the two men who looked back at me are solid. They are warriors, commanding respect in their stances.
Both men are still mine—I felt as much in my bones and in the air around us. In this life, sometimes we are granted a special someone, if we are lucky—or at least in my case—two someones. These two men are the ones who—no matter how much time passes, or how much emotional turmoil they put me through—it will always feel like no time has passed at all. Time stands still the moment we’re separated, only to resume as if nothing has changed the moment we are reunited. One week, one month, or ten years could pass, and all that time will melt away and cease to matter for my boys.
Both boys turn into protectors as I allow them to take charge of the situation. I watch as they argue with the airline at three different locations in the airport before finally finding someone who has enough authority to give us direct answers. Whoever ran the airlines baggage claim counter was in for a rude awakening. Especially if Wyhtt had anything to do with it.
I couldn’t tell who was more annoyed: me, because my luggage was lost and obviously not going to be found today, Jensen, or the poor woman at the counter for dealing with Wyhtt’s attempt at negotiation to get me a higher cash allowance. The woman had originally offered a measly hundred-and-fifty dollars. Both men simply looked at one another before shaking their heads, nonverbally coming to the same conclusion: no, that isn’t enough. After they started arguing I stopped listening, assuming it was a losing battle.
Nose deep in the one of the few things I had left—my book—I didn’t notice his approach until I felt someone leaning over my shoulder.
“Come on.” Jensen reaches down to help me up from the spot I made for myself in one of the corners. “We’ll be here for another four hours if we let him keep haggling. I hope the six-seventy-five he talked them into will be enough.”
“Six-seventy-five? Like six hundred and seventy five dollars? How did he manage that?” I ask exasperatedly as I brush airport dust from my backside.
“He gave them some bullshit excuse about being an army vet who hasn’t seen his little sister in years.” Jensen looks down at me with a smirk. “He probably threw something in about how the fourth of July meant so much more this year, being back on American soil and all.”
We both laugh. By gods his laugh, I almost forgot at one point in my life his laugh was my favorite sound and how I would go out of my way to hear it. His laugh is pure unbridled sunshine, if I could bottle and save it for all my rainy days, I would. It feels surreal to watch his body shake in laughter, and I want nothing more in this moment than to revel in it. Revel in him, I thought despite the small voice within me reminding me to heed caution.
Our laughter draws Wyhtt’s attention to us. Realizing he failed his job of running interference, he gives us suspicious and accusing looks. I wink at him, which only earns me a side eye glance. Not two minutes later he calls me over to the counter to sign paperwork. Soon after everything is signed, I have almost seven hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket.