Page 22 of Creed

My throat tightens at his words because they fill me with so much hope. And that has been such a dangerous thing to dream of until now. I smile, and a nervous laugh bubbles out of me at the kindness of his words. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkled at the sides, telling me he’s smiling back as I wipe more tears from my eyes.

Twenty quiet minutes later he pulls to a stop outside my terminal at the airport and he helps me unload my suitcase and backpack. When he slides back into the driver’s seat, I pull the money plus a generous tip from my back pocket and try to hand it to him, but he simply shakes his head. “You keep it, and when you get where you’re goin’, buy you somethin’ that makes you smile.”

“No, please. Take it, Garrick. You have no idea what you did for me back there. Please, keep it.” The words are choked out as I push it his way again but he shakes his head with a low chuckle and waves me off.

“Collins, I promise you, I don’t need it. Getting you where you want to go is the payment enough for me. Swear it.” He says and seals the deal with an x over his heart.

I stand at his window, momentarily dumbstruck. “You—are you sure?” I rasp, not wanting to leave the man with nothing.

“Absolutely.” He smiles, his bright eyes solemn. I nod and stand, backing up a step and giving him room to drive but as he starts to pull away I shout out after him, making him stop suddenly. He’s out of his car in a second like something’s wrong, but I rush back and throw my arms around his middle and hug him tightly.

I know, Collins Weston is full of smart choices tonight.

But there’s a familiarity about him and when he wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me back, I nearly break. I haven’t been hugged since before Asher left for college.

“Thank you. So much.” My eyes well with tears and my heart feels a little lighter as I give Garrick one last squeeze and step away, swiping at my eyes.

“Never thank me,” He smiles softly before he jerks his chin toward the entrance of the airport, “Go. Chase the sun.”

I let him go for real this time, watching the taillights of the taxi disappear around the corner. I may never come back to this town, but I’ll never forget the kindness he showed me. His little bit of encouragement offered to me gives me enough bravado to square my shoulders and hold my chin a little higher as I step through the sliding doors of the airport.

Pulling my sneakers back on after going through security check I hear my phone start to buzz in the plastic tub where I had placed it in on the conveyor belt. I ignore it as I hastily shove my belongings back into my backpack so I’m not holding up the line.

Locating the correct hallway for my flight’s gate, I start weaving through the crowd of travelers when my phone starts ringing again. I never let on in front of Guy that I had a phone, and I had entered his number in my phone only to block it so that he couldn’t contact me, if he’d ever found out. That doesn’t stop the nervous feeling that skitters down my spine when it buzzes a third time.

The fuck?

Dave and Marta knew I was leaving and I don’t talk to anyone else, since Asher’s apparently too good for speaking to his sister anymore. So what could be so damn emergent?

I ignore it and make it to my gate with twenty minutes to spare before boarding call, so I take the vacant seat by the window and pull my phone from the front pocket of my backpack.

It’s nothing fancy, just a prepaid touch screen phone, but it gets the job done. Pressing the side button, the screen lights up showing I have three missed calls and one text.

I furrow my brow and unlock my phone. The blood immediately drains from my face and my breathing picks up as my fingers shakily tap the screen to open the message waiting for me.

Unknown: You thought I didn’t know about this little phone of yours? Thought you could get away from me? You’d better hope wherever you run that I never find you, little girl.

I feel fucking sick at the sight of Guy’s message. Oh, god. He knew about my phone? What else does he know? There’s no way he could know about my letters to Asher and Creed since I mail them the same day I write them.

I don’t have much time to dwell in my own panic and thoughts of my foster father when my phone begins to ring in my hands again. The area code that flashes across my screen should make me light up with happiness and relief because after all these years, I've never even spoken to him on the phone. For some reason it never crossed my mind to ask for his number, and it had just become habit for my method of communication to be letters. I think I felt like it was a safer space to speak my truths to him and my brother over the years. It gave me one more safe wall to hide behind while I was in a world with no protection. I’d given him my number in my last letter and the tiniest spark of hope flutters, hoping that it could be him trying to reach out to me.

But that hope flutters out, and all I feel is anger and sadness and a feeling of loss that I can’t explain because if it is him, it’s too little too late.

The attendant calls over the intercom that they’re starting boarding calls and for first class to line up. My phone rings a fourth time as I shoot to my feet, nervously pacing the little corner where I’ve tucked myself. I get a few curious glances from people so I spin away from them, staring blankly out the window, fighting the tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and wait for my section to be called for the flight as my finger hovers over the green answer button. I regret it the moment I do and hold the phone to my ear, because hearing his voice, his real, raw, untamed raspy voice is enough to shatter what’s left of my soul into pieces.

“Collins?”

Chapter 11

Creed

(AGE 27)

Two Weeks.

Two. Fucking. Weeks.

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