Page 400 of The Winslow Brothers

Geez-us, lady, I’m trying to have an epiphany here!

I feel manic. Crazy. Like if I don’t get off this plane right now, I’m going to pass out.

“Miss, you need to sit back down,” she repeats and points toward my vacated seat.

“No, you don’t understand. I have to go. I can’t be on this flight. I don’t belong in LA.”

“We are about to take off,” she states firmly, and her brown eyes grow stern. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m sorry.” I look around to the now-confused passengers on the plane. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I can’t go to LA. I don’t belong in LA. I belong here.”

I push past the flight attendant, and another one steps up to stop me. “Miss, you need to take a seat.”

“I don’t think you understand. I’m not staying on this plane. So, you need to let me off.”

“We can’t—”

“I have to go!” I shout and push past the second flight attendant and head toward the galley area where the exit door is located. “Keep that open!” I shout as I see two airport staff in neon vests beginning to close it. “I have to get out! I can’t be on this plane!”

“Miss, sit down right now!” the lead flight attendant yells. I’m pretty sure I’m officially a security threat, but there’s no turning back now. I am once again Rachel Green, andI have to get off this plane!

“I’m sorry!” I shout over my shoulder. “I know this is crazy, but I can’t be here! I made a mistake, but now I’m fixing it, and I don’t have the ten hours it’ll take me to fly there and back to waste!” The cords of my throat strain, and tears sting my eyes. My voice sounds hoarse even to my own ears, and I know why. My adrenaline is preparing to crash—right into reality.

Surprisingly, the passengers take up in my favor, siding with me and appealing to the attendants.

“Just let her off!”

“Yeah! Just let her off the plane! It’s fine!”

“She’s obviously upset!”

“Everyone needs to calm down and stay seated.” The flight attendant tries to calm the crowd.

“Just let her off!” more people start to shout.

“She’s crying! Let the poor girl off the plane!”

I reach up to my face to feel that, yes, indeed, tears are streaming unchecked down the surface of my skin.

“Please, please,” I plead with the staff from my spot in the galley. “Just open it a little bit and let me out.”

“We need security! Call for security!”

“Yes! Yes! Get security!” I agree. “They need to escort me off this plane.”

At this point, I don’t care if I’m blacklisted from flying. One way or another, I have to get off this fucking plane.

Ty

“What do you mean, you can’t tell me who’s on the flight? This is a case of love or death,” I beg the woman holding court at the gate for American Airlines, the sponsor of JFK’s last and only flight to LAX for the evening.

When I left Rachel’s sister’s bakery, I drove to JFK as fast as I could. There’s a small chance I’m at the wrong airport altogether, but based on years and years of knowing her sister, Lydia was fairly confident this was the way to go. My brothers and sister and I have the same kind of intuition about one another; I’ve experienced it many times. I’d bet a whole lot of important shit on the sibling relationship—and frankly, knowing that finding Rachel or not will change the course of my life forever…I have.

I still have no idea if Rachel is on this plane, but fuck, I’m here because I have this unshakable feeling that I’m right. I can’t give up now; I can’t just walk away.

“Sir, I have to maintain the privacy of my passengers.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t need to know anything—anything—other than if Rachel Rose is on that plane or not. You don’t even have to tell me if you can’t…I don’t know, just blink twice if you see her name or something. Anything—”

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