Chapter Thirty-Two
Jane’s fitful sleep had done nothing to ease her heartache. The sun had come up too early, shining through the windows. She had pulled herself from bed, wondering what parts—if any—of this city would remind Chance of their time together. Maybe none, but she’d be hard-pressed to forget anything.
How had she let this happen? She’d fallen for him in a way that made air hard to breathe. Now, sitting in the backseat of a chauffeured Mercedes with Angela on the way to the airport, Jane still couldn’t catch her breath—or ignore the sad, dull ache in her chest.
Angela momentarily looked up from her constantly buzzing phone and gave Jane a long look. “Are you okay?”
Jane leaned against the window. “Not really.”
She’d said that in such a way that Angela could understand. There was nothing to discuss. No words that could help.
Silence hung over the remainder of the drive, only broken when the Mercedes pulled into a private entrance and the chauffeur spoke with the security officer.
Their short conversation led to the entry barricade lifting.
The sedan glided onto the tarmac, and they stopped plane side.
The driver opened Angela’s door, assisted them as they stepped into the bright light, and then he removed a small carry-on bag from the trunk.
For a pathetic second, Jane hoped that carry-on bag was for Chance, that he would surprise her at the airport like he did when she’d arrived.
“This bag is for you.” Angela added an unnatural chipper tilt to her voice. “There’s a pair of shorts and a tank top for you to change into if you want more Western clothes. I also brought a pair of pants and a sweater.” She handed the bag to Jane. “You never know how cold flights can be.”
Jane glanced at the luxury private jet. “You didn’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” She shooed away the wayward compliment. “It’s my job, and it was far more fun to pick clothes for you than to make sure the guys have their jock itch powder or whatever.”
Jane laughed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another vehicle approach. Her stomach flipped as the SUV stopped next to the Mercedes.
Hope layered upon hope, and she almost prayed that Chance would open the door. Hagan did instead. Disappointment tightened her throat.
Angela touched her arm. All signs of her chipper attitude had disappeared. The corners of her lips tightened, offering a worried smile. “Are you okay?”
“I’m tired.” They both knew that was the truth and a lie. Angela possessed a sharp ability to assess a situation, and given too long together, Jane would admit she’d committed the ultimate party foul and fallen in love with her white knight.
Fallen in love?
Oh no. No, no, no. She’d fallen for Chance, but that was leap years away from falling in love.
“My contact information is in there, too.” Angela angled closer. “If you ever need to talk.”
Jane didn’t want to talk. She was panicking!
Falling for Chance. Falling in love with Chance.
How had her mind confused the two? They weren’t the same thing.
Like vanilla yogurt and vanilla ice cream.
Both were great. But there was a time and place for yogurt.
The breakfast table. After a workout. Snack time after a playdate.
Ice cream, however, wasn’t an everyday occurrence.
Was Chance ice cream or yogurt? Jane pressed her fingers to her temples. She was losing her mind. “I need to go home.” Jane muttered a quick thanks to Angela, grabbed the bag, and hurried onto the jet.
The jet’s cool, dry air and quiet white noise surrounded Jane as she disappeared into the aircraft. The pilot and an attendant greeted her, but she didn’t make sense of their words. It wasn’t until a hand squeezed her shoulder that Jane snapped out of her fog.
Hagan watched her carefully from behind mirrored sunglasses. He took them off, gave a nod to the pilot and attendant—as if to say, don’t worry, I’ll handle this one. Then he gestured. “Is that your only bag?”
Her gaze dropped to the carry-on dangling in her hand. “Yes.”
“I’ll stow it.”
She let him take it from her hand and let the attendant guide her to a seat.
Jane stared out the window, feeling pathetic and foolish.
The distinction of how she felt for Chance didn’t matter.
Especially not when her subconscious had concocted an insane idea that he might surprise her again at the airport.
She could almost picture him in place of Hagan, holding a dozen red roses like her life was a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie.
But no, her life was far closer to a True Hollywood Story. She dropped her forehead into her hands.
Hagan settled close by and quietly conversed with the attendant, ordering a bottled water, then met Jane’s eye. “You okay?”
Wow, that question came up a lot. She shrugged. “Do we have the plane to ourselves?”
He nodded.
“I didn’t think I’d have company.”
The attendant came by and offered luxurious blankets. She accepted. Hagan declined and flicked his sunglasses over his eyes again. “I have a training session and someone I need to see. Figured I’d hitch a ride.”
Someone special? It didn’t matter. She tugged the blanket to her chest. “Does that happen a lot?”
Hagan paused, then admitted, “No.”
She couldn’t tell if he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her or if she were projecting her misery with such force that he didn’t know what to say.
“I planned on sleeping.” He reclined in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You okay with that?”
Jane translated his meaning as, “I promise I won’t talk to you” and then laughed to herself. “So long as you don’t snore too loudly.”
“If you go to sleep as well, you’ll never know.”
She should’ve laughed but couldn’t.
Hagan’s amusement faltered. “Look, Jane. Sorry you were stuck with me.”
Versus Chance? She clutched the blanket with a BS-nonchalant shrug.
He quietly assessed her, then added, “I have a sister who worries. I like to visit. It keeps the family happy.”
“Sounds like you’re a good brother.” It sounded as though his team wasn’t always in the Middle East. Chance made it sound like they were.
“Do you have family?” he asked.
She pursed her lips. “Not so much. Why does your sister worry?”
Hagan snort-laughed. “She thinks I spend my days igniting dynamite while hanging with the devil.”
Jane arched her brows. “That’s a lot.”
His laughter died. “She has her reasons, but that imagination of hers doesn’t help.”
Jane sighed and peered out the window. “It’s easy to let wild ideas run away.”
The jet taxied down the runway. The engines roared, ending their conversation. She settled into her seat and watched out the window as land and water became farther away. They reached a cruising altitude, and clouds obscured the view. She glanced at Hagan as he uncapped his water.
“Thought you were going to fall asleep.”
“Maybe. Unless you need anything.”
Without thinking it through, she blurted, “Is Chance dating anyone?”
Hagan choked on his water. When he finished coughing, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand and capped the water bottle. “Midas?”
She didn’t know what had prompted the question, but now that she’d asked Hagan already about Chance, it didn’t seem to matter if she pressed. “Is there another Chance Evans on your team?”
“Nope.” Hagan twisted the bottle cap over and over though it was clearly secured in place.
“Does he usually hang out with you and your teammates?”
“Yeah.”
“What about people you pick up along the way?” Jane’s fingers knotted under the blanket.
“You mean like…” Hagan stared at the ceiling.
When she figured he’d never finish his example, she clarified. “Women.”
“Women,” he repeated.
“That you rescue.”
“Rescues don’t make up a majority of our jobs.”
She snickered and closed her eyes. Her uncle had taught something just as important as martial arts; how to call a bluff in poker.
Evasion. It was at the root of all defensive tricks.
Right now, Hagan was the poster child of dodging and avoidance.
“You’re not very good at covering for your friends. ”
He scowled. “I’m not covering for anyone.”
“You’re not being upfront.”
He flipped his water bottle and caught it. “You’re asking open-ended questions.”
She sort of liked how he wouldn’t lie to her but continued to protect his friend, not knowing why she was asking. “Has Chance…” Oh, she didn’t want to dig into specifics. “Dated…” Date seemed like an all-encompassing generalization. “The few women that your team has rescued?”
“Jeez, you’re an undercover ballbuster.”
“I’m curious.” And pathetically obvious to the point that everyone asks if I’m okay.
Hagan flipped his water bottle again. They hit turbulence, and it landed in the aisle between them. Jane grabbed the bottle before it could roll away.
He extended his hand as though she might do the polite thing and hand it over.
Instead, Jane put it in her cup holder. “You’ll never get this back if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
He smirked. “I can get another bottle of water.”
“But you won’t.”
Hagan cocked his head, not hiding his amusement. “Yeah, and why not?”
“Because I asked nicely.” Jane fluttered her eyelashes, gave her most syrupy grin, and preened.
“Yeah.” Hagan snorted. “And then held my water hostage.”
“Because I want to know.” Her pitiful tone was impossible to ignore. Jane wanted to cringe. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and half-laughed. “High stakes, I know.”
He rubbed his face. “Don’t put me in the middle of this.”
“Of what?”
“I can tell something happened between you two.”
Her cheeks flamed. It was one thing for him to know and pity her, but another to say it out loud. “Nothing—”
“I don’t know what happened, but obviously, you got under each other’s skin.”
She got under Chance’s skin? “We camped in a desert and outran people wanting to sell me to the highest bidder,” she offered flatly. “I guess you could say he made an impression.”
Hagan snickered and side-eyed her. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Jane chucked his water bottle at him.
He caught it. “Thanks.”
“Ass.”
“Look.” He tossed the water bottle twice more. “Midas is one of the good guys. I promise you that.”
His admission was great news. Except, it didn’t matter if Chance was a good guy or not.
He wasn’t on the jet. They had not made plans.
No matter what happened in Syria or Abu Dhabi, no matter how she felt then, or now, nothing would change.
They’d be thousands of miles apart. Nothing would change that.
She couldn’t act as if Chance had done her wrong.
“Good to know,” she eventually, albeit quietly, added.
“Jane, he’d never intentionally hurt a woman.”
She nodded. “I believe you. Thanks.”
“No more questions?” He laughed to lighten the mood. “I can sleep now?”
Jane recalled what Chance had said about her—that she was worth remembering. The same was true of him. She grinned to herself. It was buttery warm and nostalgic. A sad kind of happy.