Page 1 of American Beauty

Chapter 1

Magnolia Steel

The wheels hitthe tarmac with a jolt, and my stomach lurches—not from the landing but from the weight of reality settling in.

Home.

Charleston’s city lights stretch beyond the runway, welcoming me back, yet nothing about this place is the same.

I reach for my phone, turn off airplane mode, and check the time in Sydney. It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure Alex is deep asleep, wrapped in sheets that still smell like me.

My chest tightens because I already miss him so much.

I pull up our text thread, hovering over the keyboard. What should I say?

Hey, I just landed, and it already feels wrong without you?

Hope you’re sleeping well. Meanwhile, I’m awake, wishing I was still in your arms?

No. Simple, but honest, is the better choice.

Just landed in Charleston. I love you, big guy. I can’t believe how much I already miss you. We’ll talk later. Sweet dreams.

I hit send. The message delivers instantly––and as expected––thereadnotification doesn’t appear, no typing bubble. Only a nine-thousand-mile silence.

I exhale, tilting my head back against the seat. Two days ago, I was curled against his chest, memorizing the rise and fall of his breathing, swearing I’d never forget the way he felt beneath my fingertips. And now I’m here. Back in Charleston. Back to reality.

A voice crackles over the intercom, welcoming us to Charleston. Around me, passengers unbuckle their seat belts, stretching and collecting their belongings. The woman beside me lets out an exhausted sigh before reaching for the overhead bin.

Time to move.

I tuck my phone into my bag and push to my feet, bracing myself for whatever waits beyond the gate.

Baggage claim is a madhouse. People hover around the carousel like vultures, ready to pounce the moment their suitcase makes an appearance. I maneuver through the chaos, scanning the crowd for Violet.

And then I spot her.

Correction: I spot a six-foot inflatable T. rex waving its tiny, useless arms in my direction.

Oh, for the love of?—

I stop mid-step, eyes widening as I take in the full spectacle. Violet stands proudly, her ridiculous dinosaur costume inflating and deflating slightly with every movement. In one of her clawed tiny hands, she holds a massive sign that reads the following:

CUSTOMS CHECK: DECLARE YOUR REGRETS AND BAD DECISIONS HERE.

Unrefined laughter, impossible to contain, bursts from my chest. People around me gawk, some chuckling. Others pull out their phones because my best friend has made herself an airport attraction.

God, I missed that menace in mascara.

“Violet,” I call, shaking my head.

She gasps as if she didn’t see me coming and throws her little T. rex arms in the air, running at me.

Well… as much as one can run in a giant inflatable dinosaur suit.

“Oh my God, Mags!” Her voice is muffled by the costume. “Is that you? Have you come to declare your regrets and bad decisions?”

I plant a hand on my hip. “You do realize this is embarrassing, right?”

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