Chapter 31
Jameson took the last turn into the airport like his hair was on fire, rubber squealing across the rain-slicked asphalt. Never had an ‘oh shit’ handle been squeezed as tightly as mine while he mobbed through the city in a classic Florida rainstorm.
“Maybe the weather delayed it,” he said hopefully.
“They’re supposed to be boarding right now,” I pointed out as my stomach turned in one last somersault.
“Still not picking up?” Noel asked from her precarious spot sitting between us. I just shook my head. I’d called Elora half a dozen times since we tore out of the driveway, but she hadn’t answered once.
“We’ll catch her,” James said, frustration still seeping off him as he tapped Paxton’s face on the touch screen again.
“I still don’t understand why you’re helping me,” I admitted.
“Because I love you, asshole.”
“You seem mad,” Noel pointed out.
“I am mad.”
Grimacing, I said, “I couldn’t help but fall for her, man.”
“I’m not mad you fell for Elora,” he ground out as we caught air over a speed bump.
“You’re not?”
“No, dumbass. I’m mad you fucking hid it. That you didn’t do what would make you happy for seventeen goddamn-fucking years and I’m to blame.”
“I don’t blame you,” I countered.
“We made that cocksucker of a pact when I couldn’t escape Mindy because Hads kept bringing her around the house. It is my fault. You’ve always been too damn good for me.”
“Bro,” I protested, but he was shaking his head.
“Talk later. Unbuckle and get ready to roll,” he instructed as he blew by the five mile per hour sign.
“Maybe don’t tear into the terminal like we’re pulling a heist,” I suggested, but the comment just earned a wry smile and an arched brow.
“Where’s the fun in that?” And with that, he pulled into the departure line, finally slowing to accommodate the barrage of speed bumps. He’d barely eased to a roll when I hurled the passenger door open and was out and running a beat later.
“Good luck!” He barked after me. Boarding pass loaded on my phone and ID in hand, I slowed to an acceptable speed-walk when a security guard scowled at me. Waving apologetically, I hustled through pre-check and into the mostly empty concourse before sprinting toward the departure gate. I’d flown in and out of the Tampa airport enough times in the last two years that the layout was familiar.
Which is why my heart dropped through the floor when I finally spotted them closing a gate at the end of the eternal, shining hallway.
“Wait!” I barked. “Hold the door! Please!” Jesus, I’d already worked up a sweat, heart pounding as I prayed to any god that was listening. I called out the gate number, but nobody seemed to care about the psycho yelling for help in a dead sprint through the empty airport. “Hold the gate!” This time the attendant with long brown hair in a high ponytail snapped her head up at me, eyes wide before recognition sent her whirling. By the time I reached her, I was out of breath, humidity sticking my shirt to my skin.
“Hi…ma’am, hold the plane…Did you?” I bent over, bracing myself on my knees as I sucked down air, vaguely aware I sounded like a pathetically winded Yoda.
“Sir, are you okay?” she asked, bending over to check my breathing. I gave her a thumbs up.
“The plane?” I panted. “Get on—I need to get on the plane.”
“Sir, I’m so sorry, but the gate is closed.”
“Gate is closed. No. Christmas. Blizzard. Need to—” I sucked down a lungful of air, forcing myself to stand upright as I palmed at my eyes. “I need to get on the plane. I have a ticket. Ran from the parking lot. Big ass airport. Need on. No more flights. New York.”
For each disjointed word, the empathy in her eyes seemed to deepen, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the window, where the male attendant—who looked a disconcerting amount like a short-haired Max—was on the phone, eyeing me warily.
“I’m so sorry, Sir, but once the gate is closed, we cannot open it.”
“Sure, you can. Door has a handle.” I set my hands on my hips. Maybe I needed a little less weightlifting and a little more cardio. Does my heart always try to expel through my temples like that? This is what a stroke feels like. Airports have doctors, right?
She shook her head, blue eyes glossy above a freckled nose. “It’s not that simple. Federal security protocol prohibits us from?—”
“No,” I said, the little air I gathered crushed from my lungs as I collapsed onto her stand. She set an awkward hand on my shoulder. “Broke thirty laws to get here. Sprinted from the lot.”
“I see that.” She shook her head empathetically. “I really am sorry.”
Elora
“Sis,I’ve got this. Do what you gotta do.”
“Are you sure?” How Pax understood my blubbering through the waterfall of tears and hiccups I would never understand. But my not-so-little brother smiled as the airline attendants gave the last call for our flight, stooping from that nearly six-foot-four vantage point to meet my eyes.
“I’m sure. I know you. I know the plan, and what you need. You and Brod come first.” His dimple popping into existence was oddly comforting, as was the just-hard-enough-to-smart sock to my shoulder. He flicked my chin up with his index finger, booped me on the nose, and ordered, “Go get ‘em, Sparkplug.”
Despite the shuddering sobs I couldn’t seem to get under control, I laughed. It was watery, at best, but the twenty-nine years of brotherly nostalgia punched through the mess of emotions that took me captive the moment we hit the freeway. “Okay. God, thank you, Pax.” I threw my arms around him, and he scooped me up, tucking me against his chest before settling me back on my feet.
“Hurry, El. He’s probably getting eaten alive in that house right now.”
I took a shuddering breath. “I know. God, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking about kicking ass and changing lives, not about what your heart actually needed. Now you need to run and save him.”
“I’m running. Right now.”
“Good. Go,” he said with a little salute as he backed onto the ramp to the plane. “Love you, El.”
“Love you, little brother.”
He smirked, and then turned on his heel as the male attendant glared at his watch, a little pinch in his brows. “We’ve got one more,” he said to the woman coming over to check his list. I gave them a little wave; aware my chin was trembling again as the last six weeks all caught up with me at once.
I only made it as far as the bathroom before the tears started fresh. Ducking inside, I rushed for an open stall, heaved my duffle off my shoulder, and fucking lost it.
Collapsing up against the cold tile wall, my rain jacket screeched the entire way to where my descent stopped, squatting on the dirty bathroom floor as fat tears tore loud, ugly sobs from my chest. The pathetic noises competed with the obnoxious, endlessly looping elevator music they insisted on playing in surround sound. This wasn’t the ‘I just said goodbye to my boyfriend’ kind of cry. This was the catastrophic, life ending fuck up kind of sob.
Burying my aching face in my hands, I thought about Broderick. That damn smile that shattered me entirely. How mouthwatering he looked stretched out poolside, with all that gorgeous skin on display. The stories he told me about his family history while we made his Grandma’s curry. Over a decade’s worth of postcards. Wildflowers. Where the hell did the man find a single long-stem rose in Las Vegas, for pity’s sake? His warm hands guiding my fingers through slick clay to forge something beautiful together. The delicious burn of his stubble on my thighs.
Broderick was effortless. Not the relationship–the logistics of two very different lives attempting to blend. But…actually being with the man? That was effortless. His laughter brought life to my lungs. A why to my existence.
That’s what I realized as we drove to the damn airport. That this network deal could very well leave me farther apart from the one person I’d ever loved like this. Success without Broderick would be a hollow life sentence that left me aching with a million ‘what if’s’. And God, if we couldn’t survive this and I had to watch him move on? That would kill me. The idea alone made me want to crawl deep into the earth to rot with my shattered heart.
And he would move on. A man like Broderick Allen wouldn’t stay single for long. Not when someone experienced how sweet, how thoughtful, how absolutely incredible he was.
He had to come first. We had to come first. And here, I’d left him to fend for himself with the sharks. Like that wasn’t a psychological bloodbath waiting to happen. I never should have abandoned him to face my brothers alone. Stakes be damned.
Hell, I never should have left, period. Because it was Christmas. Our first Christmas. And instead of spending it in his arms in ugly sweaters, I’d spent it sobbing my heart out and telling Pax everything. From my junior prom, to last summer, to how he’d shown me what it felt like to be loved.
Paxton—bless him—told me to get the hell out of here.
Which is what I needed to do. Now. Right now. Before they made him feel so guilty that I lost the best thing to ever happen to me.
I shook my head to clear the hysteria. Tear tsunami finally slowing, I wiped at my face and shakily found my feet. Blowing my nose, I decided it was actually disgustingly impressive how much snot could come out of one face after an hour of crying.
Some kind of commotion broke out beyond the bathroom as I washed my hands and splashed my face, hoping nothing too terrible had happened. I was still scowling when I rounded the corner. I was just heading for the main hallway when said commotion broke into distinguished words and a timbre that I would know anywhere.
“Broderick?” My voice cracked, so soft I could barely hear it. But I tentatively wheeled my suitcase back toward the gate, unwilling to hope. But there he was, leaning his elbows on the counter, hands braced against his mouth as if in prayer—pleading, I realized.
“Ma’am, I know you’re just following policy, but you dont understand.”
“I’m so sorry, sir. I can look for another flight.”
“Listen, Kimmy—can I call you Kimmy?” She nodded, and he continued, “I don’t need another flight. I need that flight. The love of my life is on that plane, and I need to go with her.” My chest warmed as I closed the gap, heart quickening, tears brimming all over again. He’d come after me. “She’s moving to the city, and I didn’t tell her I’d drop everything. Didn’t tell her that home is where she is. That maybe starting over means I can finally figure out who the hell I am without people expecting things from me. Or that I would teach anywhere if it meant I get to wake up with her every morning and make her coffee, just how she likes it.” A silent sob shuddered through my ribs, hand flying to cover my mouth as if it could contain it. He was shaking his head, reaching forward to plead his case, and my heart was breaking and mending all at once. “She’s the most frustrating, beautiful, courageous, impossibly stubborn woman you will ever meet,” he said with a stilted little laugh, as though he was suffocating his own emotion. But I could hear it. So could the stewardess, her chin wobbling as she looked back at him. “I love her. Kimmy—I have loved Elora Rhodes since I was seventeen—and I could lose her tonight, if you don’t just open that door and let me go after her. And I cant lose her.” He shook his head vehemently. “Not again. It would kill me.”
“Sir, I…” The helpless looking employee shook her head. I crept ever closer, tears streaming all over again as my pulse hammered against my skin.
“I know. I know about the policies and you’re just doing your job, but I can’t lose her, Kimmy. Please. She’s my world. My everything. I don’t care where we do it, I just want to live a life where I get to raise a tiny Elora that looks like me and see her little face light up every Christmas morning.” Eyes burning, I rocked on my feet, hands both covering my mouth now, as I tried to keep my shit together. He meant it. Every damn word. Even with a view of those tight shoulders, I could hear it in his voice. “This woman is my better half in every sense of the word. And I need to ask her to live and die together as my wife.”
“Say it again,” my voice cracked as I said it, but he whirled, eyes wild as they locked on me in utter disbelief. Frantically, he studied my features before he seemed to jerk out of a spell. Lunging forward, Broderick wrapped his arm around my waist, scooping me to him as his lips came down on mine. Hungry fingers threaded through my hair, his hand finding its way up to my jaw so he could pepper my face in desperate kisses that sent me laughing through my tears.
“Fuck, baby, I love you so damn much.” His thumbs absently wiped away the tears on my slick cheeks. I was vaguely aware I likely looked like I’d tried to make out with a beehive, but he didn’t seem to care.
He was here.
He was here and proclaiming his love for me for the world to hear. When Broderick finally pulled back to look at me, his eyes were glossy and his smile tentative, I just nodded.
Yes, I wanted all of that. Felt all of that. Straight to my marrow. Our bodies melted into each other as he cradled my face, our foreheads coming to rest together.
“I love you too.” Breathing in the love of my life, I repeated, “Say it again.”