Chapter 17
Welcome to Chicago, the sign above their heads read—they were officially on the same continent as the portal.
Vega had somehow managed not to panic or pass out while going through Passport Control, even though their flight had been rerouted to Chicago. It was like this life wanted to go on one last tour of Earth.
“Holy shit, holy fucking shit. We did it,” Vega muttered to herself, her heart beating so hard she could feel it in her temples. Her adrenaline plummeted, leaving behind a tight chest and a lump in her throat.
Since the plane, Vega had only spoken to Bridger if absolutely necessary, and apparently, he was done with the cold shoulder.
“I gotta know, do you plan on ignoring me for the rest of the trip or the rest of our lives?” Bridger cocked his head to the side, not looking where he was going.
“The rest of our lives if I could, but that doesn’t seem possible,” she grumbled.
“Is this all because I wouldn’t tell you about my dream?” he asked, squinting like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
“No, I’m just back to realizing I can’t stand you and how you like to play by Bridger’s rules. Kinda feels like Marlena’s rubbed off on you.” Vega dodged a man barreling towards them with his bag rolling behind.
Bridger grabbed her arm, stopping them in the middle of the busy airport. “I am nothing like her. I will never be anything like her.”
If looks could kill… I’d be a goner.
“Then tell me, Bridger, what was the dream about?” Vega asked, knowing she wasn’t going to get a straight answer.
Bridger ran a hand through his hair, frustration setting his brows. “I don’t want to talk about the dreams.”
“Of course you don’t. You don’t want to tell me anything I want to know." Vega yanked her arm from his grip, taking notice of the few people staring at them. “How convenient.”
“That’s not true—”
“If you don’t want to tell me about the dreams, then tell me why Marlena would let you come here to get me. I know it’s not out of the goodness of her heart.”
Bridger said nothing.
Between his silence, her mixed feelings, and their constant back and forth, Vega was on her way to a panic attack.
Up ahead, there was a private corner behind some chairs. Vega beelined for it—she needed a minute to collect herself. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to focus on the rise and fall of her chest, of the breath she was using to clear the static in her head.
The hardest part was over, but Vega felt like she was finally letting everything they’d done hit her. She dug her nails into her thighs, letting the pain remind her she was alive—this wasn’t a dream.
She knew Bridger loomed over her without having to open her eyes. Just like she could always sense what he was going to do. They were connected in ways both had yet to understand—because they hadn’t had time. Because Bridger betrayed her. He’d left her.
“Vega.”
She hated that his voice made her open her eyes and look up, her body a traitor to what her brain wanted.
He’s hiding something from you, she reminded herself. “I can’t do this with you right now, Bridger. Please, I… We need to get out of here.”
“You need to take a couple deep breaths,” he told her, standing too close.
“I’m f—”
His fingers were on her chin, tilting her head back. “People are watching us. Stop acting like you hate me for one fucking second.”
Vega couldn’t look anywhere but at Bridger.
“If you touch me again, I’ll personally cut every finger on your hand off one by one.
” She took a deep breath, grabbed him by the wrist with their brand, and pulled his hand off.
Vega made it look sweet, but there was nothing kind about the way she looked at Bridger. “No more planes.”
Bridger was unreadable—the perfect poker face for the commander of Tolevarre. “No more fucking planes,” he agreed wholeheartedly.
They walked silently side by side, doing their best to look like a totally normal, unassuming couple. News stations played on every TV they passed. Travelers watched the current weather report for the entire US, all with various looks of displeasure on their faces.
Vega skidded to a stop at the numerous thick white blobs scattered across the country.
“This is the storm of a lifetime here in Cheyenne, Wyoming. We’re used to snow, but not this amount of snow overnight.” The newscaster swept her hands behind her, dragging everyone’s attention to the whiteout conditions. “We expect another two-plus feet in the next twenty-four hours.”
The clip cut and moved to New York City, where another in-field reporter showed Times Square covered in a fresh blanket of snow. The next cut to Colorado, where there was so much snow, ski resorts were planning to close until the mountains were deemed safe.
“Of fucking course,” Vega groaned, running a hand down her face.
The storm pushing through Wyoming was predicted to break up and scatter amongst the Midwest, barreling straight through their route to California.
Screens blinked with red and yellow, announcing delayed or cancelled flights throughout the country.
People stared on their phones, frantically trying to find new travel accommodations.
Every rental car booth had signs up that read No Cars Available, and their staff argued with irate customers. As if the poor girl running the counter could control the weather…
“It doesn’t sound like anyone’s going anywhere, so where do you think you’re going?” Bridger asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of the coat he’d stolen in Rome.
They were met with the frigid winter air as the sliding doors to the airport opened.
“You ask too many questions,” Vega groaned but explained anyway.
“Not every flight has been grounded. If someone is leaving the country, headed in the right direction, they’re getting out.
At least for a few more hours, and if they’re leaving the country, it means their car will be left parked and unused until they return.
” Vega shivered when another gust of wind blew down the tunnel lined with cars, taxes, and buses.
A full bus waited by the curb, its window taped with a sign identifying it as the shuttle for parking lots C and D, but since Vega and Bridger didn’t have any luggage, the driver waved them on.
With the crowded bus, they were forced to stand close to each other in the corner, fighting for their lives as the driver hit every pothole from the terminal to the lot.
“Lot C!” the man called, rolling to a stop by a hut full of people waiting with their luggage.
A man on the phone dressed in a designer business suit caught her attention.
Vega tapped Bridger’s side, nodding towards the opening door and the people getting out. “This is us.” She moved to the exit door, not bothering to check if Bridger was following or not.
Vega eagerly rushed for the exit, stumbling down the last step like she had expected another one to be there.
“No, I’m in Atlanta for the week, and then I’ll be in Dallas the followi—shit.”
Vega flailed her arms and knocked the phone from the businessman with the nice suit and delicious cologne’s hand.
The man reached for her, gently grabbing her forearms like he could help either of them from the situation Vega intentionally put them in.
Letting out a pathetic peep, Vega’s ass hit the salted concrete below.
“Are you okay?” he asked, crouching down to help her to her feet.
Vega painted on an embarrassed expression, inhaling sharply when she put weight on her left foot. “I’m okay, I think I just twisted my ankle.”
Bridger leaned down, picking up the phone Vega had knocked from his hand. He extended it out for the man to take, his glare looking definitely less than friendly.
“I’m so sorry. I thought there was another step.” Vega gave the man her best apologetic smile.
His hand struck out like a snake, snatching his phone from Bridger. His laugh was strained, nerves making his throat bob. “Oh, it’s fine. Just glad you’re okay.” He returned her smile with one that might have made her weak in the knees in another life.
“Thank you. Sorry about your phone. Have a good day!” Grabbing Bridger by his coat pocket, Vega yanked him away from the shuttle, sporting a fake limp.
When they were out of earshot, Bridger turned to her. “You dirty little crook.” The shuttle rolled away, leaving the lot for its next destination. “Is that another trick you learned in one of your lives?”
Vega grinned, her fake limp disappearing.
“No, that’s from the original life.” Her smile softened at the memory.
“We used to make Khort so mad by cheating at cards.” She hummed a short laugh.
“I’d sneak them up my sleeves, and Marlena would hide them with her invisibility.
” It felt like someone else’s life now, not her own.
“I watched Arlet do it a lot in the time we spent together on Earth, but I think it’s something she picked up from me and Marlena when she moved in with us. ”
Bridger wagged his finger at her. “I always knew you were a bad influence, Vega Caelum.”
Vega flipped him off, pulling the car key out of her pocket. She pressed the lock button, hoping it would beep somewhere close by.
They wandered the aisles silently, pretending to be lost, until a beep finally drew their attention to a covered parking section and shiny, new blacked-out Cadillac Escalade.
Vega opened the backseat to make sure there wasn’t anything weird or out of place. She searched everywhere she knew of an AirTag to be stored and let out a breath when she found one tucked between the third-row seats.
Bridger watched her the entire time. “What are you doing?”
Vega closed the back door and hid the AirTag under the parking curb.
“Getting rid of a tracking device. What are you doing?” She returned his question.
“Watching you get rid of a tracking device,” he deadpanned, sliding into the passenger seat.
As soon as Vega started the car, Bridger pressed every button he saw. The overhead light turned on, shining directly into his eye. “Ow.” He squinted and turned it off. He blasted the heat, but the car hadn’t fully warmed back up, so it blew cold air out instead.
“Gods, stop fucking touching things.” Vega slapped his hand out of the way and fixed the controls.
She hadn’t expected his hand to wrap around her wrist and definitely didn’t expect Bridger to pin it to the center console, not after she’d warned him to keep his hands to himself earlier. Her eyes shot up to his.
A muscle in his jaw jumped before he spoke. “You touched me first.” His matter-of-fact tone made Vega try to snatch her arm from his hold.
It was no use. Bridger was stronger than her even without any powers.
“I get you’re angry with me, Vega.” The way he said her name while fired up made a flood of an unwanted desire drown her senses.
She fought and fought, not ready to let it win.
“I even agree you have every right to be mad at me, but there’s one thing I must remind you of.
” He leaned in, bringing his face closer to hers.
“I’m still the commander of Tolevarre. Watch how you talk to me. ”
They locked eyes and Vega couldn’t ignore the growing tension between them. Her body was drawn to him, while her brain and heart tried to keep her in line.
“New rule. Let’s keep our hands to ourselves. How’s that sound?” He finally let her go.
Vega brought her arm to her chest, rubbing where his hand had been—not because it hurt, but because she thought she could still feel his searing touch long after it was gone.
Every nerve ending in her body lit like a match, and Vega caught herself leaning into the heat of the blaze Bridger had set.