Brandon
CHAPTER FIFTY
Present Day
Ialmost don’t make the flight.
Correction—I shouldn’t have made the flight.
By the time I got offstage, threw my bass at Jake, and bolted for my waiting town car, I was already cutting it too close. Security was a blur, the gate was already over halfway through boarding, and I’m pretty sure the woman scanning my ticket told me I was lucky to have made it.
She’s not wrong, but I made it on the flight. I made it through nearly eleven excruciating hours sitting in Coach as my leg shook so hard I’m pretty sure the man sitting next to me wanted to cut it off.
Now I’m here, running through the Charles de Gaulle airport like I’m a marathoner on his way to break his personal record.
It’s massive, packed wall-to-wall with people moving in all directions, announcements echoing overhead in a language I can’t understand as I push through the crowd coming out of Customs like a man possessed.
“Sorry—excuse me—coming through—”
A suitcase clips my leg. Someone swears at me in French—but I don’t stop. I can’t.
My lungs are burning from the sprint, but pure adrenaline keeps me moving as I scan the overhead signs, trying to figure out which direction will take me to the nearest ride share pick up lot.
I pick a direction and run with it, thankfully seeming to end up in the right spot as I notice the Uber and Lyft logos shining brightly outside the doors. I try to catch my breath as I step outside and fumble to get my phone out of my pocket to order a ride.
When I pull up the app, I realize—I have no idea where the showcase even is. Instead, I pull up Mia’s contact and hit call. She answers on the second ring.
“Are you here?” she asks, bypassing hello completely. “Did you make it?”
“I did it,” I pant, still not completely recovered from my mad dash through the airport. “I’m about to order an Uber but I have no idea where I’m going. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
Mia laughs—half shocked, half impressed.
“Oh my God,” she says. “You are insane. I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Location, Mia. Now.”
“Okay, okay,” she says, shifting gears. I can hear movement on her end, voices in the background. “We’re at the venue—backstage. Showcase starts in—” She pauses, muffled for a second as she asks someone nearby. “—twenty minutes.”
Twenty minutes.
My phone buzzes as Mia drops me her location. When I plug it into the Uber app, it says I’m closer to thirty minutes away.
Fuck.
“Is she first?” I ask, my voice tight.
“No,” Mia answers. “She’s actually the finale—which, from what I’ve gathered, is a pretty big deal.”
“I’m on my way,” I tell her.
“Wait,” she adds quickly. “She doesn’t know you’re here. I haven’t told her.”
“Good,” I reply immediately. “Let her focus—I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up, unable to keep from pacing as I watch the little car on the app move closer to my location. Finally, it rounds the corner and pulls up in front of me. I whip open the door more aggressively than I intended before falling into the backseat with my backpack still on.
“Hey, man,” I say to the driver, still completely out of breath. “Please get me to my drop off location as fast as you can.”
He glances at his phone, then back at me, raising a brow.
“Très urgent?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Very urgent.”
He shrugs and throws the car into gear.
“D’accord.”
The city blurs past the window as we take off, traffic weaving around us as my pulse refuses to slow. I run my hands through my hair, trying to steady myself, but it’s useless.
There’s only one thing running on a loop through my head—she’s here, I’m here, and I’m about to show her that there’s nothing in this world that means more to me than her.