Chapter Twenty-Seven
Em
THE AUTOMATIC DOORS PARTED, and the hum of the Boston airport hit Em like a rush—rolling suitcase wheels, muffled announcements, the distant hiss of espresso machines. The air inside was colder, too sterile after weeks in the fresh coastal air, and it made her muscles tense.
Em paused at the entrance, fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase.
The glass doors slid shut behind her with a soft click, sealing away the sounds of summer.
For a moment, she almost turned back, half-expecting to see Lennon’s SUV still idling at the curb.
Wishing Shae would walk in with that slow, sure stride, eyes cutting through the crowd until they found her. But no one was there; she was alone.
The security line moved quickly. Em slipped off her shoes, placed her phone and wallet in the tray, and stood back as they glided down the conveyor.
Part of her questioned at that moment whether this was right, whether this was her time to leave, or if she should stay and wait for Shae to come back and talk to her one last time.
Something didn’t feel right about leaving like this, but then she thought back to Fourth of July night. Shae had had days to reach out and make things right, but had chosen not to. This was what she did—run.
Em gathered her things methodically, her brain taking over, while her body worked through the motions.
The terminal was large and bright, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that poured sunlight across the pale tile floors.
A few families sat scattered along the rows of black seats, and a group of teenagers took turns posing in front of a souvenir shop sign that read Visit Cape Cod, Where Summer Never Ends.
Em’s eyebrows shot up in objection. Summer always ends.
She found her gate and folded herself into a seat near the window, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The plane taxied across the tarmac, its metal frame glinting in the late morning light.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
Mom (8:45 AM): We can’t wait to see you, honey. Dad’s making burgers on the grill! Love you!
The text was meant to be happy, but why did it make Em feel worse, make it all feel more real?
She typed a pink heart back to her parents and exited out of the message, and there it was—Shae’s name.
The thread from the last time they were in Boston, when they’d been on her way to meet her at the bar.
She opened it, scrolling slowly, her lips turning up into a faint smile as the memory pulled at her.
Her thumb hovered over the text bar, the cursor blinking back at her.
I’m leaving for Colorado today. I’m going to miss you. Everything we have… had. Matters.
The words sat in front of her, staring back at her, honest but late.
Em highlighted it, watching it turn blue, a tight ache gripping her chest, then deleted it all at once.
She backed out of messages, the heaviness settling in immediately, and loaded her ticket onto her phone, trying to focus on the details instead.
She checked the aisle and seat number to prepare for boarding, put her phone in airplane mode, and slipped it into the pocket of her backpack, zipping it shut.
Then turned to look back at the tarmac, letting her gaze drift.
She still had a bit longer until departure, but better to wait here than at the beach house; she couldn’t sit in that empty space any longer. It wasn’t the same there without everyone, without Shae.
Even though it didn’t all work out the way she’d hoped, she had her answer, the one she’d come here with. That wanting someone, no matter how deeply, didn’t mean they were ready to choose you the same way. She had to be okay with that.
She reminded herself that she’d made a promise to herself not to push, and in a way, she’d been pushing all summer and maybe all along.
Pushing to get Shae to see her, pushing to get her to let go, but she refused to push her into loving her and choosing honesty.
Her parents' mistake taught her that. As much as it hurt, she had to start taking steps toward other things in her life.
She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep, focused breath, holding for a count of three, exhaling as if she could blow the tension out of her chest. Em rolled her shoulders, allowing the tightness to melt away, and clenched her fists once before loosening them, noticing the difference in sensation.
She repeated the motion with the rest of her body, a technique she’d learned at school.
She’d never attempted it before, but she’d try anything at this point.
Her throat burned as she fought back the need to let everything out. She just wanted to quiet the noise in her head. She let herself drift, her body beginning to feel lighter.
“We are now boarding Flight 327 with nonstop service to Denver. Pre-boarding passengers may board at this time, followed by first class and priority groups.”
Em woke to a woman's voice on the intercom. Surprised she had dozed off, she sat up and stretched before gathering her things. She’d be in Denver in five hours, and then on to Evergreen, where her parents lived. She reached to pull her phone from the pocket of her backpack.
“Now boarding rows twenty-three through twenty-eight,” the gate agent called. This was it. She took one last look around, as though she’d see Shae sprinting to stop her, to tell her not to go. But this was real life, it wasn’t a fairytale.
She shuffled forward with the line, switching her phone out of airplane mode to load her boarding pass.
Em made her way to the line forming at the terminal. All around her, people’s minds were focused on their next destination, already texting about arrival time. Em tried to go there too. She thought of Colorado, her parents waiting for her, her dad’s burgers on the grill.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She almost didn’t look; she’d been mostly avoiding her phone for two days now, but her thumb moved before she could think better of it, and Shae’s name filled the screen.
Em, I’m on my way. Please don’t leave. Please, I love you.
She read it once, then again. The line moved forward, and she stepped to the side.
The thing she hadn’t let herself hope for or feel was now right in front of her.
She showed up, like she had all the time when they were younger.
She got in the car, and she showed up. Em had spent so much time focusing on what Shae didn’t say, she’d forgotten what somewhere inside of her she already knew.
“Ma’am, are you boarding with us today?” The agent called over to her.
Em put her phone to her chest. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I need to—I’m sorry.”
Em backed away, her bag catching on the carpet as she turned, moving back through the terminal the way she came. Her heart was doing something it hadn’t in three days. She dialed Lennon’s number, hoping she wasn’t halfway to Chatham.
“Lennon, can you come get me?”
? · ? · ?
Shae pulled into the short-term parking lot of the airport, heading through the connecting tunnel, her heart pounding against her ribs. She’d barely remembered to lock her car before jogging toward the glass walkway that connected the garage to the terminal.
Her shoes slapped against the tile as she moved faster, weaving around families dragging suitcases and businessmen glued to their phones, following the departure signs, scanning the faces of passers-by as she walked. She pulled her phone from her pocket, dialing her sister's number, no answer.
The automatic doors at the end of the tunnel slid open, leading to the main terminal.
She peered past the check-in counters, eyes darting toward the long line of travelers waiting to go through security, and spun in a circle to ensure she hadn’t missed her.
Em had to be here somewhere in this crowd.
She checked her phone again. One missed call from Lennon. Her fingers pressed her sister's name, automatically dialing her number.
“Hey, Shae,” Lennon answered.
“Lennon, is she still with you?” Shae said frantically, out of breath. “Do you still have her? Em?”
“No, I dropped her like thirty minutes ago—forty-five… I don’t know. I stopped to grab some coffee and donuts at Calitsby’s. Where are you?”
“Shit, Len. How fast were you driving? Ugh, I just got to the airport. I don’t see her.”
“Did you try calling her?”
“What do you think?” she snapped. “Yes, of course! It’s going to voicemail.”
“I’m sorry, Shae. She’s probably going through security.”
“Alright, Len. Thanks.” She sighed, a heaviness settling in her chest. “I’m gonna go.”
“I’m sorry, Shae.” Lennon breathed.
Shae hung up the phone. Wandering over to a row of seats off to the side of the entrance and sinking into one. And just like that, all the air was sucked from Shae. She rarely cried—especially not in public—but this slipped past whatever defenses she had left.
That was her one chance, and she blew it, like all the other times before.
She thought back over the last couple of weeks, to all the times Em had attempted to connect with her.
All the times she blew her off, not even showing her the respect of looking her in her eyes.
She wasted so much time. She wouldn’t blame Em if she never wanted to see her again.
She’d walked away from her way too often and too easily.
Her eyes darted around again, hoping maybe she’d overlooked her, but deep down she knew she hadn’t. She knew she had lost the only person whom she had ever loved and would probably never find anything like it wherever she searched.
Shae heaved herself from her chair reluctantly, everything pressing down on her.
Her phone rang, and she raised it expectantly—June, probably calling to see how things panned out.
She clicked ignore and switched her phone off, sliding it into her back pocket, and headed out of the main terminal the way she came, leaving a part of herself still sitting in that chair, hoping.
Shae drove slowly through the city, her thoughts desperately searching for ways to fix everything she’d broken.
All she wanted now was to get back, pack up all of her things, and head back to the beach house where she could be alone with her thoughts, without the sympathy of her parents.
She didn’t need anyone’s pity right now; she did this to herself, and she’d have to deal with it herself. The long drive would do her good.
She pulled up in front of her parents' home, trudging the short distance to the door. Her body tensed at the anticipation of her mom’s impending intrusion into her personal space, but when she opened the door, it wasn’t her mom standing there—it was Lennon.
“Hey, lil sis,” Lennon said, her lower lip jutted forward in a pout. “Can I hug you?”
Shae let go of the air in her body, all of her feelings rushing to the surface until she couldn’t contain them and they came spilling over. She threw herself into Lennon, looping her arms around her, trying to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes.
“I just—I let her go, Len. She was right in front of me, and I let her slip through my fingers. Now, she’s gone. I’ve lost her. I’m so fucking careless!” She sobbed.
It was the most vulnerable she had ever been around her sister, around anyone, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“You’re not careless, Shae.” Lennon squeezed her tighter. “You just needed a little more time to figure it out.”
“It’s been seven years, Len. I’ve felt some version of this for seven years.
” Shae pulled back. Lennon’s hands still braced her shoulders, rubbing there and wiping the tears from her cheeks, and that’s when she saw it.
There, by the stairway, sat a large suitcase with a backpack stacked atop it. She pulled free of her sister's arms.
“What?” She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “Whose suitcase?”
Lennon smiled, nodding toward the den. Shae followed her stare to see Em standing there, in her tattered jean shorts and coral tank.
Her hands were tucked into her pockets, and she reached up, swiping a tear from her own eyes, and then waved.
Like all the other times they’d ever said they’d see each other again.
“She called me from the airport, asked me to come get her,” Lennon explained. “Turns out she got your message. I swung back round and picked her up. I called to let you know, Mom too, but… guess you weren’t accepting calls.”
Lennon’s eyes slid from Em back to Shae. “I’ll be out back if you need me,” she said, smirking as she turned.
Shae stepped closer to Em, each breath caught tight in her throat. “When did you—” Shae started.
But Em interrupted her, taking the last step toward Shae, closing the space between them. “You love me?” she asked, her voice wavering.
Shae sucked in a deep breath, as if making up for the seconds she spent without one. Shae nodded, not knowing if she’d be able to form the words, her throat aching with held-back tears.
“I’m gonna need you to say it, Hemingway.”
Em’s eyes drifted down to Shae’s mouth. That familiar current surging between them once more, magnetic and alive. As if the universe itself had been holding its breath, waiting for the spark that would set them both aflame.
“I love you, Em,” Shae said confidently. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. But this summer, with you… Em, it feels most like home when you’re here, and I don’t know how I ever left that behind.”
Em crashed into Shae like a wave hitting the surface, her arms wrapping around her neck and drawing her in with a kiss that felt like it’d been held onto for an eternity.
“I love you, too.” Em gasped in the space between kisses. “I’m always going to love you, Shae!”
They stood there like that for some time. Holding onto each other as though the world had stopped spinning, as if every unspoken truth, every missed chance had led them right here. For once, there was nothing left to run from. This time, they would hold on. This time, they wouldn’t let go.