12. Zee
Twenty-two hours later and the most reassuring part of this entire experience is that Tee keeps turning to me and whispering, “This isn’t happening.”
Because I feel the same way, floored, it’s comforting to share in the experience.
“This can’t be happening,” she says as she shakes my arm, acting like a human alarm clock when I fall asleep during the ride to the airport.
“This can’t be happening,” she mumbles as we get out of her dad’s truck.
“This can’t be happening,” she states as we’re about to head through CATSA?* for screening.
Separating my liquids from my electronics, this time, I mutter, “I wish it weren’t.”
“This is the opposite of a fairy tale. It’s Nightmare on Elm Street!”
“Colton doesn’t look like Freddy Krueger,” I counter, my mind clearly not working because that shouldn’t have been my answer.
Not when she’s in drama queen mode.
She shrieks, drawing the officials’ attention to us.
“Tee! Keep it the hell down before we’re arrested!”
“This is not an okay situation because the guy you’re being forced to marry is hot, Susanne McAllister.”
“Ma’am, is everything okay here?”
Cheeks bright red, I turn to the agent with a weak smile. “Everything’s fine. My friend’s worked up over nothing.”
The woman’s frown seems perpetual, but a glimmer of something lingers in her gaze when it stops darting between me and Tee. “Do you need help?”
“Um, no. I have this small bag of liquids?—”
“I mean, help. Are you being forced against your will to marry someone, ma’am, with the intent of bringing them inside Canada’s borders?”
Glowering at Tee, I demur, “My friend’s overreacting.”
“Overreacting?! If she’s going to save her ranch, she has to marry the eldest son of the neighboring property! Does that sound like I’m overreacting?”
“This is outside of CATSA’s purview.”
Tee scowls at the agent’s robotic response. “Is that all you care about? She’s being forced to marry a stranger!”
“I’m not being forced,” I hiss, squeezing her arm. Hard. “Shut up, would you?”
The agent narrows her eyes. “If you’re in danger, I can call the RCMP?—”
“No! That isn’t necessary. Thank you for helping but my friend doesn’t understand.” Because the agent doesn’t understand either, I explain, “I have water, and he has land. It’s a match made in ranching heaven.”
“Sounds like a plot Jane Austen would appreciate,” the agent says with a distinctly feminist sniff.
“Exactly,” Tee crows, but it’s less happy and more sorrowful. She swipes a hand over her eyes. “She’ll have to move back here. She’s going to leave me in New York.”
The agent darts another look between us then, sighing at the disgruntled line of people at our backs, invites, “If you’d like to continue with the screening process, ladies.”
Relieved, I nod and forcibly turn Tee toward the counter. “Unpack your liquids. I can’t believe you did that!”
“I’m sad!”
“You think I’m not? Did you figure getting us brought in for questioning would make a shit situation better?”
Tee harrumphs, but her shoulders slump.
With a couple sniffles, she unpacks her carry-on and places her things in the trays, and finally, we’re good to go through the metal detectors.
The agent from earlier slips to the other side of the unit and hands me a piece of paper.
“It’s for a woman’s charity. If you need help?—”
Doubly embarrassed, I mutter my thanks, scan the note, ‘Dove Bay - Saskatoon Women’s Shelter,’ and stuff it into my pocket.
Collecting my things, I glare at Tee once she’s through the metal detector and head to the tables where I haphazardly shove my belongings into the case.
Once Tee joins me, I grumble, “I’m grateful that you care. I love you as much as you love me, but while we’re in a secured space, if you so much as mention Colton once, I swear to God, I’m leaving you and heading for the nearest bar. Now, I need chips. Stat.”
I feel like a bitch for abandoning her there while she organizes her hand luggage into the packing cases she relies on, but I need a minute to myself.
Yes, my situation is shitty.
Yes, it’s dire.
But it’s not criminal.
Needing chips wasn’t a lie so I head to Relay.
It’s times like these that I wish I could gorge myself on junk.
I can enjoy fast food in moderation so long as I balance it with insulin, but sometimes, I just want to drown in carbs. I’ve spent a lifetime watching Tee eat her feelings with ice cream and candy without worrying about her blood sugar, and today, I’m jealous.
Because I need some of that, I snag two bags of All-dressed chips and head to the line, making mental calculations about how to combat the influx of carbs.
That’s when someone grabs my arm.
Startled, I turn, half-expecting to see a CATSA agent, but it’s not.
Neither is it Tee.
I can literally feel the blood drain from my face when I set eyes on Clyde Korhonen.
For the first time in years.
I can’t speak, can’t breathe.
Fear has me in an immediate chokehold.
Unbidden, the bags of chips tumble to the floor.
“It’s been a long time since we last met, Susanne.”
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
“How many years has it been?”
Oh, God.
Not enough.
Yet it also feels like yesterday since I saw him in the?—
“You’ve grown up very nicely.”
There’s a lag between ‘very’ and ‘nicely.’
A lag that he uses to look me up and down.
He’s…
My mind blanks.
That voice… his tone…
He’s flirting with me.
Trying to charm me.
My skin feels clammy and tacky and it’s hard to swallow.
I’m going to be sick.
Finally, though his ego must weigh more than he does, he picks up on the fact that I’m not talking back.
He frowns at me.
Somehow, that’s worse.
It feels as if there’s a band around my ribs and it’s constricting my lungs.
Inwardly pleading with any deity that’ll listen for Tee to burst into the store, I manage to choke out, “What are you doing here?”
It sounds more like, ‘What doin’ ‘ere?’
Inside, I’m wailing.
I’m going to faint—I know it.
“I’m leaving for Vancouver,” he chirps, apparently relieved that I can talk. “But when I heard through the grapevine you were returning to the States today, I had to delay my flight and stick around until I got to see you.”
My eyes widen.
He orchestrated this?
“W-Why?”
And how did he know about my travel dates?
Grand-mère.
Goddammit.
“By now, I’m sure you’re aware of the deal my son brokered with me.” His smile is pure sleaze. “That’s proof of my dedication to the future of the Seven Cs and the Bar 9. I hope you see that.”
“Why do you care if I do or don’t?”
Leaning forward, he lifts a hand.
It takes everything in my power not to projectile vomit all over him when his finger strokes the line of my jaw.
“I’m aware that you get very little capital out of this deal, Susanne.”
“The ranch’s debts are covered?—”
“The Bar 9’s safe, but what about for yourself? Every girl needs some spending money, doesn’t she?” He chuckles. It’s oily and nauseating. “I can make that happen.”
His thumb presses into the small indent on my chin and that vaguest pressure triggers another memory, but this one is so deeply entrenched that it yanks me out of this terrified stasis.
Retreating a couple steps feels like I’ve run a marathon. I know I’m panting as hard as if I made it to the finish line.
He stares at me in confusion but seems to shrug past it. “I want you to be my eyes and ears in Pigeon Creek, Susanne. My son’s never managed the ranch on his own before. As someone who understands the importance of a legacy, you’ll also comprehend that I’m worried about the Seven Cs being in his hands. It’d ease my heart to know the ins and outs of… say, the daily management.
“I had an attack last year. Arrhythmia.” He pats his chest. “The old ticker’s not what it was.”
Good.
“You’re asking me to spy on Colton,” I mumble, making sure I understand what he’s after when he tends to couch everything in four or five layers of BS. “Is that right?”
The irony here is that he’d believe whatever ‘intelligence’ I shared with him when half the reason my life turned out the way it did is because no one ever trusted my word.
When coming up against him, I knew whatever I had to say would be dismissed.
But this man is evil. To the core. Yet his position outranks mine so I’m the one who’s easiest to ignore.
“Spying’s such a harsh word.” He tsks. “I’m keeping an eye on a ranch that’s been a part of my family for two centuries.”
“There you are!”
I jump.
It’s humiliating, but I do.
At least three inches in the freakin’ air.
And when I come down, I nearly knock over a stand of postcards showcasing Saskatoon’s delights.
Tee clings to me until I gain solid footing.
“Jeez, how are you supposed to live on the range again without me there to prop you up?”
It’s a soggy joke, an attempt to put things right between us, but my eyes prick with tears that the confrontation with Clyde only exacerbate. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Unaware that we’re not alone, she hurls her arms around me. “I’m going to miss you too.”
In the center of the store, like the crazy people we are, we hug.
I can feel her tears on my cheek mingling with my own.
We’ve never been apart for longer than two weeks—it feels like I’m asking to have my right arm cut off for funsies.
“Excuse me,” someone snaps.
We pull apart and Tee, ever the tigress, barks, “What? You afraid of two women hugging or something? Get your damn magazine. It’s so much more important than genuine human interaction?—”
“Tee, cool it. We are in the way.”
She huffs but tugs me with her, which is when I remember Clyde.
Only, he’s not there.
I peer around the store, trying to find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. He isn’t outside the store either.
Confused but relieved, I faze that confrontation out. Tee’s jabbering on about how she got delayed when this cute guy flirted with her outside the screening area. Even though I keep up with the conversation as I return the chips I dropped to the shelf because eating my feelings is no longer an option, my thoughts are racing a mile a minute.
A glance at the flight board tells me the time…
I reach for my phone and head for my contacts.
My thumb hovers over his name.
It’s obvious that Clyde wouldn’t want me to share that conversation with anyone. Tee included—his disappearing act tells me that much. But… Colt?
My loyalty lies with my family.
I can’t say that after our marriage Colton will be that.
This is a transaction.
And yet, my loyalty will never stand with Clyde so Colt needs to be my first port of call.
Something that’s backed up when I see he sent me a message earlier.
Colton: Tell me when you land? Safe flight.
He hasn’t changed.
Even as a teenager, he was a nurturer. That was part of the reason I kept on coming around. I always felt safe with him. Which is why it killed something in me, something fragile, when he cut me loose like I meant dick to him.
Me: I’m through security. Will be boarding soon. But when I get there and have a chance, we need to talk.
I start to tuck my phone into my pocket but before I can, I get an alert.
Colton: Everything okay?
Me: Sure. Just need to tell you something.
Colton: You’re a cereal killer.
Despite the anxiety that still has me in a chokehold, my lips quirk. The joke, considering our past, could fall flat, but I know he’s trying to lighten the situation.
I can’t fault him for that.
Nurturer.
Protector.
I always wanted him to shield me from the boogeyman…
Who knew we’d end up sharing the same one?
Me: If I am, it’s the low-carb option. No one would kill for muesli.
Colton: The Germans might.
Colton: Let me know you arrived safely.
There it is again.
Me: Sure.
This time, I tuck my phone away for real.
Trying not to feel something for the man who cares about whether I land or not when my grandmother or brothers didn’t ask me to keep them informed…
* ?Canadian Air Transport Security Authority