Page 2 of Repairing the Wreckage

I hate this!

“Just one bag.” I shrug, inching my backpack forward.

“Traveling light. Smart.” One corner of his mouth curls up. He’s cute. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt are stretched to their limits by his muscular arms. He’s tall, towering over me without looming. Not as tall as Griff, though.

Good grief, am I going to compare every man I meet to Griff for the rest of my life?

“Thanks again.” I wave the gift card through the air and turn toward the escalator.

Being at the airport but unable to fly anywhere seems masochistic. But I haven’t decided where else to go. The Uber I took from Johnsonville cost more than I make at Miller’s Farms in a week of afternoon shifts. Remy’s going to go nuclear when he sees the charge on his credit card. I’ll pay him back.

Upstairs, I step off the escalator and walk into the small cafe. The line’s short. I’ve barely settled on my order when I’m motioned toward the register by a tired-looking cashier. “Iced blonde cherry mocha and a blueberry scone.” I choke out the last word. I’ll never be able to eat another muffin again without thinking of Griff, so scones it is from now on.

The cashier tilts her head and frowns at me. I force my second fake smile of the morning and hand over the gift card. “I’m not sure how much is on it.”

She nods and takes the card. There’s enough for my order and maybe another coffee later. I stuff the card in my pocket and pull out a crinkled dollar bill for the tip jar.

A few minutes later someone calls my name. I collect my order at the counter and turn around. Every seat in the tiny cafe is jammed full of travelers with their carry-on bags. To keep the green mist of jealousy at bay, I head downstairs and reclaim my bench by the window.

I don’t want to go home. Obviously, I can’t stay here forever, though. Not every security guard will be as friendly as gift card guy. I bite into my scone. Crumbs tumble down my chin, landing on my chest. I brush them off my sweatshirt and take a sip of my iced coffee. The fake, cherry-chocolate sweetness floods my mouth and I almost gag. Why couldn’t I order plain iced coffee like a normal person?

“Feeling better?”

This time I smile up at the security guard. I lift my drink. “Much. Thank you, again.”

“No problem.” He pats his pocket. “I’m one of the Airport Angels. We keep a stash of cards to hand out to weary-looking travelers.”

“Wow. That’s, uh, really nice of you.”

He shrugs.

Unsure of what else to say, I sip my coffee again. This time, the unusual flavor isn’t as shocking to my tongue.

“You need me to call anyone for you?” he asks.

“No.” I pull my cell phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and check the battery life. Not wanting to deal with any “where are you” texts from Remy, I put it in airplane mode when the Uber dropped me off. Still have forty-five percent. Did I even grab my charger when I left the house?

“All good.” No idea who I’ll call when I finally decide what to do but I don’t want to impose on this stranger any longer.

“My name’s Nathan. If you need anything.” He glances over his shoulder toward the ticket counter where a customer’s raising his voice at the person in line behind him.

“Thanks, Nathan.” I don’t feel like giving him my name and he doesn’t ask.

He wanders toward the grumpy travelers, stopping to speak into a radio clipped to his shoulder.

That’s enough fun at the airport. It’s time to figure out my next move before I get into trouble for loitering.

I’m not ready to throw myself into the unknown, yet. As much as I hate it, the pain in my heart can’t be soothed by running away.

CHAPTER TWO

Griff

A cloud of vanilla mist surrounds me. Molly. I breathe deeper and move closer to her warm body.

But she’s not there.

I hug a cold pillow to my chest. The bitter scent of cheap detergent fills my nose—not vanilla.

---