Page 90 of Some Kind of Forever
I repeat it over and over in my head, to no avail. My foot touches the first step of the plane, and the floodgates open. I frantically try to wipe them away, looking at my shoes to keep from falling while hiking my bag up higher on my shoulder. Making it onto the threshold and inside, I swipe at my cheeks to clear my vision enough to find a seat in the middle of the cabin. My eyes move up the aisle to gauge how far I need to go, and I freeze.
Next to the seat I would have collapsed into stands Chase, one hand in his pocket and the other holding onto a small bouquet of pink lilies.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” I ask, my voice hitching in my throat. My feet feel stuck. I’m unsure if walking forward, toward him, or backward off the plane is the best course of action.
He bites the side of his lower lip and takes a breath before moving a step toward me. “I needed a quick flight back home, and Kendall offered me a spot on the plane.”
“But this isn’t flying to San Francisco…”
“Yeah. I know.”He takes another step forward, and I would take a panicky step back if only my feet could move. “I wanted to apologize for last night and figured an hour-long flight was a good way to do that.”
Chase takes another step forward, and I let out a shaky breath. He did all of this just to apologize to me for being rude? After all this time lost, all the hurt and pain I feel halfway responsible for, he’s the one standing in front of me with grand gestures?
“I was an asshole. I wasn’t in a good place, and I took it outon you.” He takes his hand from his pocket and closes the gap with one last step forward, putting the flowers on the seat next to us. Reaching up, he slips my bag from my shoulder and drops it in the seat opposite the flowers. “I don’t want to see you hurting, Kayla, and I’m sorry I said I did.” Timidly, he laces our fingers.
Chase’s eyes meet mine, deep dark blue enshrouded with guarded anticipation as he watches me. Waiting.
It’s my choice.
He’s waiting for me to decide what happens next, and I’m frozen. I had made up my mind, resigned to let him go and here he is, asking me to reconsider.
I want to reconsider.
I want back what we had before LA, and Maggie, and San Francisco. To accept the words he said to me on his porch, when he told me all the things he loves about me. However it looks, whatever form it takes, I want some kind of forever with him.
Chase looks down, and I feel him releasing our knitted fingers as he pulls away.
No.
I cup his cheek in my hand. With a sigh, he closes his eyes and nuzzles his face into my palm, and it’s like I can hear him silently releasing a long awaited,finally.
I lean in, brushing my lips against his, and his hand presses at the small of my back, pulling me closer. The kiss is soft—hesitant, nervous—as we give in to one another. Piece by piece, we knit the fragile fabric of our hearts back together, giving and taking what we need to feel whole again.
When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine, and it feels like coming home. We stand entwined, just us two, alone together.
After several minutes, he leads me back to the middle row of seats, pushes the armrest up, and pulls me in close. “I missed you,” he whispers, fiddling with the ring on my thumb.
It’s my turn now. This guilt that has been eating me up sinceseeing the video, the guilt from last night, seeing what my words did to him, refusing to believe him, it all feels like this is my fault.
“Chase, I’m sorry. I should have believed you, trusted you?—”
His lips are on mine again, briefly, before he pulls back, shaking his head and looking into my eyes. “No. You believed what you saw and trusted yourself. I can’t be upset at you for that.”
“But all of this could have been avoided if I would have just?—”
Chase lands another kiss to quiet me, this one more determined than the last, before pulling away. “Stop. It doesn’t…” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “This…” he says, reaching for my hand and placing it over his heart, securing it with his own on top. “This is what matters to me.”
The speaker overhead clicks as the pilot’s voice crackles through, prompting us to buckle up for takeoff. Chase lets me go long enough to secure his seat belt and reaches for my hand again, trailing the tips of his fingers back and forth across my open palm. The soft tickle of his fingertips on my skin is a feeling I’ve missed more than I realized. If he never stops touching me, never stops holding me, I think I’ll be just fine.
We watch the clouds pass by the window as the plane takes to the skies. As soon as it reaches altitude, Chase unbuckles to move closer to me. I lean in, angling myself to rest my head on him, my breathing slowing to match the rise and fall of his chest.
“Did you get the catering internship?” he asks quietly.
“Nope. Well, not exactly…”
His body stiffens, and I turn to look at him, his eyebrows pulled in with worry. “Because of what happened in the kitchen?”
“No, nothing like that. I got a different internship—a better one. I’m the first event planning intern for Seaside Catering.”
