Chapter Twelve
Addie
I’m sick the entire flight, fighting to stay in my seat rather than hanging over a disgusting airplane toilet. When we finally land, it feels as if it takes ten years to exit the plane. But finally, I step into the airport with Brock by my side, and I can feel Creed nearby.
Feel him.
I can’t even explain what that means, but it’s just a sense inside me—an understanding that he is close.
And while he’s not close enough to suit me, he’s too close for Brock’s safety. “I need to drop by the ladies’ room,” I say, “and since I’m under the weather, I’m going to call it a day. No dinner for me tonight.”
“I’ll wait on you and help you with your bags. I should probably give you a ride home, too.”
“I’ll be fine to drive,” I say. “I need my car tomorrow. But you can help with my bags. No complaint there.”
“I thought you needed a bathroom.” His tone is pure suspicion.
“Changed my mind. Rather just get home.”
Twenty minutes later, Brock drops my bag in the trunk of my new red Beetle and gives me a critical once-over that says I still look like walking death.
“You sure you can drive?” he asks, though he doesn’t seem inclined to convince me otherwise, which is a pleasant surprise and a huge relief.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “See you in the morning.”
He offers me a two-finger salute and saunters away. A frown puckers my brow. Why had that been so easy? Didn’t he want to kill me? I turn to my car and get in, uneasiness in my stomach as I slip the key into the ignition.