Hawaiian Hearts

Chapter One

Reese

Sweat droplets formed at my temples and trickled down my face as my gaze remained fixed on the minuscule, brown airplane bag intended for motion sickness.

I chanced a peek down and inwardly groaned at the noticeable pools beginning to collect in the armpits of my cotton T-shirt.

Why did I have to wear gray today? My stomach twisted, and I instinctively pulled my arms closer to my body.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thumping heart as I tried and failed to forget the last forty minutes of my life. Just as I had stepped into the security line at Denver International Airport, an unexpected jolt of muscle spasms surged through me.

“Hi,” a young mother said, forcing me out of my nightmare.

She had a slight southern accent and thick chestnut hair pulled up into a messy bun.

She smiled kindly as she slid into the seat next to me, a baby attached to her hip.

The man following her immediately put his earbuds in as she began taking out an endless supply of food and toys.

“I’m Brandy, and this is Gunner.” She inclined her head to the bubbly baby in her lap, who couldn’t have been older than six months old. “This is his first flight, so I apologize if he gets grumpy or restless.”

“I’m Reese,” I said as I watched Baby Gunner reach for the touchscreen on the back of the seat.

“Can you believe this plane is going to Hawaii?” She clapped her hands excitedly. “This is our first time! Have you been before?”

“I haven’t. This will be my first time, too,” I said as I grabbed my noise-cancelling headphones, the universal sign that I was done talking, and slid them over my ears.

She kept talking, “That’s exciting! Are you traveling with anyone?” She glanced around the plane.

“Nope, just me,” I tried to say politely. I wasn’t one for small talk, but I was even worse today.

“What kind of adventures await you in Hawaii?” She pressed on.

I sighed, accepting the fact that Brandy was going to be a talker. “I’m a travel nurse,” I explained. “I’m starting a new sixteen-week assignment there.”

“A contract in Hawaii? That’s so exotic!” she exclaimed.

Hawaii had an immense need for travel nurses, but many steered clear because housing was so expensive and in short supply.

As a travel nurse, you received a monthly housing stipend, and whatever was left over was yours to keep.

The cheaper your housing, the more money you’d make.

Factor in the cost of renting a car (because no one would shell out the money to ship a personal vehicle for a four-month contract) and the cost of food, and it was no wonder most nurses were forced to pass.

I would have never considered Hawaii if my mom hadn’t mentioned that my cousin, Beth, had recently moved to Oahu.

Beth was one of those magical relationships where you could go years without seeing each other, but pick up exactly where you left off.

She was the one constant in my childhood until my parents got divorced and the annual visits ended.

We’d kept up in some way thanks to social media, and she’d even invited me to her wedding. I wasn’t able to go because I was in the middle of a contract in Las Vegas, but it meant a lot to me that she wanted me there.

With Hawaii as an option, I’d swallowed my nerves and reached out to see if she and her husband would be willing to sponsor me.

I didn't expect much of a reply, but I was pleasantly surprised when she enthusiastically said yes. Thinking about all the small talk I would be having with someone I hadn’t seen since I was twelve made my eye twitch, but taking advantage of free family housing was far better than other options that had been presented to me.

I would have preferred a contract in Portland or Seattle, but those cities were popular, so they had long waitlists. Most EDs slowed down during the summer as the cold/flu season ended. Contracts were harder to come by this time of year, so you had to take what you could get.

I received two offers for the summer: one from a hospital in Reno, Nevada, and the other from a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona.

Reno’s six-week contract was far too short to make it worth my while, and I immediately rejected Phoenix because the idea of getting caught in the desert for the summer sounded unbearable.

I’d been holding out for another option when a four-month Hawaiian contract came up. I thought back to what my mom had said about Beth and took the plunge.

“We are going to a special beach to see turtles!” Brandy clapped her hands, and Gunner moved up and down on her lap with the motion. “Do you have any fun plans during your time off?” The plane was now fully airborne.

I was about to respond when a burp slipped out instead.

I instinctively covered my mouth as an intense heat crept up my neck and then violently back down my entire body. “I am so sorry,” I said quickly.

Brandy seemed unfazed as she ran her hands through Baby Gunner’s thick brown hair. “That’s nothing compared to what this little guy can dish out.”

My stomach churned and made a sound only a dying cat could reenact. I stood up so quickly that I hit my head on the low airplane ceiling. “Excuse me,” I said. “I need to use the restroom.”

“No problem, sugar,” Brandy replied as she grabbed Gunner and pushed on her husband next to her. He looked up, annoyed.

“What?” His accent was even thicker.

“Move,” Brandy said. “Our neighbor has to take a piss.”

The man looked me up and down, seeming to debate whether he was actually going to move. Another bolt of lightning hit my abdomen, and I shouted, “Move, or I will poop my pants again!” The honesty was out before I could stop it.

“Again?” Brandy asked, eyebrows raised and a frown now plastered to her face.

“I’m already in my backup clothes.” I practically panted as I clutched my abdomen. “I don’t have any more clothes to change into after I was forced to ditch the last one in the bathroom trash can.”

Her husband stood at a snail's pace, and Brandy pushed the flight attendant’s help button as she scooted out.

I bolted past them as I shuffled to the closest lavatory.

I slammed the door and opened up the toilet lid, not thinking twice before I sat down, not even bothering to cover the seat with toilet paper. I just didn’t care anymore today.

I wanted to cry as I reran in my head how this whole situation started.

I had been in the security line when a blonde TSA agent managing the X-ray machine scrutinized my bag with a hint of suspicion. He’d worn a cheeky grin as he gestured for a colleague to come over. The two glanced at the screen together and shared a bro-five as they not-so-quietly snickered.

They looked at each other in agreement, and one grabbed my bag and chauffeured it to the search area.

I had glanced at my watch and screamed internally, knowing that my flight was boarding in only thirty minutes.

I had never missed a flight before, and I couldn’t afford to start today.

My new hospital had made it clear that new-staff orientation was held only on the first of each month, which was unfortunately tomorrow.

If I missed it, they were entirely within their rights to cancel my contract.

I had no plan B. If I didn’t get on that plane, I would end up jobless and homeless.

“Ma’am?” Blondie had called me over.

The second I started moving toward the examination section, my stomach rolled in torturous waves. Immediately, my body had been flooded with a warm sensation, the familiar kind that heralded intractable vomiting.

“Is there anything restricted in your bag?” he asked with a smirk on his smug little face as he put on black rubber gloves and opened my suitcase. He’d started listing the restricted items any frequent flyer would have memorized by now.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I said shortly.

Standing there at that moment was probably one of the most challenging physical feats I had ever faced.

I had to control my breathing, tighten my abdomen, and look this man in the eyes to answer his questions while every pore in my body was pouring out heavy sweat.

Not to mention that I couldn’t appear guilty of anything; this man was a federal agent after all, who could decide if I needed to be taken into one of those private rooms for further questioning.

He pulled out the extra set of clothing I always packed, just in case. He rummaged through various charging cables and my laptop until he came across a little black velvet bag.

NO!

I knew my face had gone from its sickly shade of green to a dark crimson in less than a second. I had traveled every three to four months for the last five years and had never encountered this problem. I always discreetly secured that particular... “item” in my checked bag.

“Ma’am, what is this?” Unzipping the black velvet bag, he had unveiled my dark purple vibrator. He hoisted it in the air like a kid who just won his first Little League trophy.

The TSA agent behind him had erupted in a fit of laughter, and tears pricked my eyes as the situation settled in my chest.

“Is this a neck massager?” he’d asked sarcastically.

The three other travelers in line behind me caught up, and it felt as though they pulled up seats and were throwing back popcorn with their eyes boring into me. An older man off to the side chuckled as his wife clutched at her invisible pearls.

I was about to open my mouth when my stomach growled with fury.

My palms felt slick as I’d tried to run them down the seam of my pants, unable to meet anyone’s gaze.

My forehead was drenched entirely, and at this point, my lower back felt like someone had spilled their drink down my shirt.

I didn’t know in the moment which was worse: being publicly humiliated by TSA agents for my sex toy, throwing up publicly, or that I was going to miss my flight and end up unemployed?