7. Laney
We’re going home. Properly home.
A flight has been arranged for us—a big commercial plane this time, not like the smaller one that crashed—but I’m still anxious about flying again.
We could have driven, but it’s thousands of miles and would have taken days.
I don’t think I’m strong enough yet to handle that amount of time in a car.
Going back home also means leaving the security of the hotel, and that also makes me nervous. People are going to recognize us, and ask questions, and maybe even try to take photos or videos. I’m not used to this kind of attention, though Darius and the others are, maybe to a lesser extent.
I want to hold Reed’s hand, but I’m still conscious of how people might interpret our relationship. I know how important it is that no one finds out what happened between the four of us out there. We’ll all be judged for it, but Reed worst of all.
We’ve been given small suitcases in which I’ve packed everything from the hotel room, including one of the towels, and the robe, and all the toiletries. They’re far better than anything I have back in the trailer.
I have to remind myself that I’m not poor anymore.
I’ve never lived a life where I’ve had money, and old habits are hard to break.
After being in the cabin for so long, I can’t quite wrap my head around the idea that food is no longer scarce, and I can eat whenever I want.
As a child, I’d always been hungry and scavenged for food.
It had felt like there was never enough, and I never knew where my next meal was coming from.
That had gotten easier as I’d grown up and been able to earn some of my own money, but the hunger I’d experienced at the cabin had thrown me back to those times.
Even now, I find myself wrapping a pastry or bread roll in a napkin and slipping it into my pocket or bag.
I don’t trust my current position. I know I can be thrown back into starvation and poverty at any minute, and the child in me is always preparing for that.
We leave the hotel together, heads down, and are ushered into a private car with blacked out windows so the numerous paparazzi and curious public can’t get a good look at us.
It’s strange leaving the hotel. It’s only been a couple of days, but the place has been a refuge, and leaving means I’m exposed all over again.
“You okay?” Reed asks me.
“You don’t have to keep asking me that.”
“Yes, I do.”
He doesn’t do the same with Cade and Dax, though I guess they didn’t go through what I did.
At the airport, we’re allowed to use a private entrance reserved for celebrities, so we don’t have to mix with the general public.
I still feel like everyone is staring and talking about us behind their hands.
My anxiety causes my heart to beat too fast and I’m lightheaded, my stomach swirling with nerves.
I know we can’t hide away forever and that we need to figure out a way to get on with our lives, but that doesn’t mean this is going to be easy.
We get through passport control and are taken through to boarding. We have first-class tickets—another luxury I’m unused to—and are boarded first.
On the plane, I sit bolt upright, my back practically glued to the seat, my hands gripping the armrests. It feels like it takes forever for the other passengers to be seated.
Everything about this is throwing me back to the previous and only other flight I’ve ever been on.
The one that almost resulted in our deaths.
I’m wishing we’d taken the ground route option.
A flight attendant comes around, offering refreshments, but I can barely even look at her, never mind take anything from her.
She probably doesn’t look anything like the poor woman who lost her life in the crash, but she’s wearing the same uniform, and all I can think about is her.
We’re finally ready for take-off, and I’m on the verge of running screaming to the door, so I can get off this thing as fast as possible. I’m shaking all over, my palms slick with sweat. I’m worried I’m going to puke in front of all these first-class passengers and make a scene.
“Laney, baby,” Reed says. “I know you don’t want me to keep asking you, but are you all right?”
“Not really,” I whisper.
He stretches out a hand and takes mine. “It’s going to be okay. You need to breathe. Take in one breath and count to three, and then blow out to four. You’re safe. We’re all safe. Nothing bad is going to happen again.”
I know the chances of a second plane I’m on going down must be so remote they’re not even calculable, but it doesn’t stop my brain panicking. I do as Reed instructs, even as the engine roars loudly and the plane picks up speed, forcing me back in my seat.
But I don’t puke, and I don’t go screaming to the door. I breathe and squeeze Reed’s hand, and before I know it, the plane has leveled out and we’re cruising. I’m never going to enjoy flying, but the all-encompassing panic that has gripped me finally eases its hold.
“You okay, Laney?” Dax asks.
“Better now. How about you?”
“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to fly without thinking about it,” he says.
“What about you, Cade?” I ask his brother.
He doesn’t look over at me but stares out of the window. “It’s only flying. No big deal.”
He might be saying that, but I can tell by the tension in his neck, shoulders, and jaw that he’s struggling, too.
Sometimes I get caught up in my own pain and trauma and forget about theirs.
Maybe I had it worse, but what I went through doesn’t make what they experienced less.
I know my being hurt also hurt them, but especially Cade.
Him being out of action and helpless while I was raped has undermined his sense of self.
We might be physically safe now, but we’ve all still got our struggles ahead of us.
I manage to zone out for the remainder of the flight. I’m incredibly relieved when we touch down in Los Angeles without incident.
Word must have been leaked about us landing, as there are yet more press waiting for us. One thing Los Angeles has more than its fair share of is the paparazzi.
I’m happy to step out onto U.S. soil, though. There had been a time I’d believed I’d never do it again.
“Let us take you back to the trailer,” Reed says.
“Yeah, if you insist on going back to that place,” Cade adds gruffly, “the least we can do is make sure you get there safely.”
“I can get a cab,” I tell them. “I’ll be fine.”
Darius catches my hand. “Laney, we want to be with you.”
I squeeze his fingers. “I know you do, and I want to be with you, too, but right now we have press following us everywhere, and we have to be careful. Besides, this just feels like something I have to do on my own. I know you won’t get it, but I need some time to process everything that’s happened. ”
“And you can’t do that with us around?” Darius sounds hurt.
I give a small laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Absolutely not. You’re far too much of a distraction.”
“A good distraction, I hope,” Cade says.
Most of the time… I think but don’t say.
Things still aren’t one hundred percent between the two of us, and I know I’ve been giving him mixed signals, but I still don’t know how I feel.
This is part of the reason I need space.
I can’t think clearly with them around. When the sex is so good, it’s hard to untangle my thoughts and emotions from the physical.
I also use sex as a distraction, and that isn’t healthy either, but then neither was what happened the other night.
We haven’t tried again since, and I’m still worried I might freak out again when we eventually do.
“I’ve got some stuff to sort out,” I reassure him. “My mom died right before the plane crash. There’s so much I haven’t managed to organize.”
“We can help,” Reed offers.
“I know, and I appreciate that. I promise I’ll ask if I need it.”
He doesn’t push me, and I love that he is respecting my wishes. He’s treating me like the grown woman I am now.
“Don’t forget that,” he says. “We’re in the city, should you need us, and only a phone call or a message away.”
The airline provided us all with new cell phones with U.S. SIMs before we left the hotel this morning. So far, I’ve managed to avoid Googling our names, in case I read something about us online that I don’t like. I’m not mentally or emotionally strong enough to handle that yet.
“I know. Thank you.”
I want to hug and kiss them, to pull my body to each of theirs, but once more I’m horribly aware of all the eyes that might be on us, how if anything looks like we’re more than just family members, it’ll be torn apart and overanalyzed.
My biggest fear is the truth about the nature of our relationship being exposed.
I know I’ve created space between myself and them, a physical space I don’t want but feel we all need.
“Laney,” Reed says, “come here.”
I hesitate. “What?”
“If you think you’re walking away from me without a hug, you can think again.”
I glance nervously at the press and lower my voice to a whisper. “But what about them?”
“We’re still family, Laney.”
I step into the circle of their arms, so we end up in a kind of group hug, with me in the middle. Tears threaten like an oncoming storm, but I hold them back. If I start to cry, there is no way they’ll let me leave on my own.
“I haven’t been able to sleep these past few nights knowing you’re not in the same room as me,” Reed says. “God knows how I’m going to manage when you’re not even in the same building.”
I manage a smile. “You’re a grown man. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to miss you.”
“We all will,” Darius adds.
“I’ll miss you, too, but we can see each other soon.”
I untangle myself, pick up my case, and go straight to the cab. I don’t look back, worried they’ll see the tears in my eyes. I remind myself that this isn’t permanent, that we’ll be back together soon.
I just need some space to sort my head out.