37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mac
Three days.
My stomach lurches along with the plane as the wheels make contact with the tarmac.
I can fake it for three days, right?
Protect myself and my dignity?
Who the fuck am I kidding; I can barely fucking breathe.
The collar of my shirt is already toting a tear, but I yank on it anyway, desperate to rid myself of this choking feeling wrapped around my throat.
Every day, I’ve heard from Jordan. And every day, I clung to those words like a sermon of my religion. Stowing away all the little details he’s sent me like I’ll need them for eternity.
Every night, wished he was there.
Yet it’s been too long since I saw his face up close. Felt his presence warm my side. Known that if I just turned around, he’d be there.
He hasn’t been there.
The fist with a death grip on my heart tightens when I do just that, turning to my right, and see the seat next to me empty.
It’s always empty.
How poetic .
I flatten my lips, thinning them against the rush of hurt, and turn to the front where Leo’s directing us off the airplane.
This is it. This is the moment.
Drawing in a deep breath, I snag my bag and stand.