Page 49 of Things Left Unsaid

“This is the opposite of a fairy tale. It’sNightmare on Elm Street!”

“Colton doesn’t look like Freddy Krueger,” I counter, my mind clearly not working because thatshouldn’thave been my answer.

Not when she’s in drama queen mode.

She shrieks, drawing the officials’ attention to us.

“Tee! Keep it the hell down before we’re arrested!”

“This is not an okay situation because the guy you’re being forced to marry ishot, Susanne McAllister.”

“Ma’am, is everything okay here?”

Cheeks bright red, I turn to the agent with a weak smile. “Everything’s fine. My friend’s worked up over nothing.”

The woman’s frown seems perpetual, but a glimmer of something lingers in her gaze when it stops darting between me and Tee. “Do you need help?”

“Um, no. I have this small bag of liquids?—”

“I mean,help.Are you being forced against your will to marry someone, ma’am, with the intent of bringing them inside Canada’s borders?”

Glowering at Tee, I demur, “My friend’s overreacting.”

“Overreacting?! If she’s going to save her ranch, she has to marry the eldest son of the neighboring property! Does that sound like I’m overreacting?”

“This is outside of CATSA’s purview.”

Tee scowls at the agent’s robotic response. “Is that all you care about? She’s being forced to marry a stranger!”

“I’m not being forced,” I hiss, squeezing her arm. Hard. “Shut up, would you?”

The agent narrows her eyes. “If you’re in danger, I can call the RCMP?—”

“No! That isn’t necessary. Thank you for helping but my friend doesn’t understand.” Because the agent doesn’t understand either, I explain, “I have water, and he has land. It’s a match made in ranching heaven.”

“Sounds like a plot Jane Austen would appreciate,” the agent says with a distinctlyfeministsniff.

“Exactly,” Tee crows, but it’s less happy and more sorrowful. She swipes a hand over her eyes. “She’ll have to move back here. She’s going to leave me in New York.”

The agent darts another look between us then, sighing at the disgruntled line of people at our backs, invites, “If you’d like to continue with the screening process, ladies.”

Relieved, I nod and forcibly turn Tee toward the counter. “Unpack your liquids. I can’t believe you did that!”

“I’m sad!”

“You think I’m not? Did you figure getting us brought in for questioning would make a shit situation better?”

Tee harrumphs, but her shoulders slump.

With a couple sniffles, she unpacks her carry-on and places her things in the trays, and finally, we’re good to go through the metal detectors.

The agent from earlier slips to the other side of the unit and hands me a piece of paper.

“It’s for a woman’s charity. If you need help?—”

Doubly embarrassed, I mutter my thanks, scan the note, ‘Dove Bay - Saskatoon Women’s Shelter,’ and stuff it into my pocket.

Collecting my things, I glare at Tee once she’s through the metal detector and head to the tables where I haphazardly shove my belongings into the case.

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