Page 64 of At First Flight
It wasn’t just a passing thought or a fleeting daydream. It was real. And when I thought about it, I knew without a doubt that I wanted that life with her. One day.
I could see it now, the life we’d build, the home we’d create, and yes, the family we’d have together. And that scaredme. It scared me because it felt so right. But even more, it excited me in a way I didn’t expect.
So as I held that baby in my arms, I made a promise to myself, to Lila, to the future that was slowly but surely becoming our own. I would protect her, care for her, and show her that this life, with me, could be everything she ever wanted.
And if she ever needed more time to see that, I’d give it to her. But I would wait for her because this was worth waiting for.
My phone sits beside me on the bed. Dark and unmoving. Taunting me.
It’s not that I don’t want to be here for my friend. I just don’t want to behere.Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have left in the first place.
There is no way I could have expected that leaving the three people who have come to mean the most to me would be this hard. Before them, I would go anywhere at the drop of a hat. Like, say, Connecticut to find my lost sister. But now? Now, I can’t imagine being anywhere else.
Yet here I am, wallowing in my misery alone in a hotel room. Talk about a change of pace for me.
Hesitantly, as if it were a snake ready to bite, I pick up the phone and stare at her name in the contacts. The name “Ghost Girl” shines brightly back at me from where I’d named it, like I needed to convince myself she was nothing more than a casual encounter.
She isn’t.
I tap the screen, then quickly back out, blacking the screen again.
With a plop, I drop the phone back onto the bed and run a hand across my face. I’d never called her before. Nerves likethat of a teenage boy rattle me to my bones. When I left two days ago in the early morning light, she’d come down into the kitchen to figure out what all the racket was. In a flourish, I headed to my car, but not before I told her I’d call to check in. I want to, even if for the kid’s sake. But another part of me hesitates.
Lila’s skittish. Guarded. I recognize the sense of self-protection because I’d worn it myself. I don’t want to push or turn into another weight on her shoulders.
But, God, I miss her.
Her voice. The way she challenges me in her sharp, bright, witty way without even trying. The way she smiles whenever she gets a jab in toward me. The quiet strength she carries like a shield.
I miss being with her in my house…with my kids. I miss the insane way she always knows what everyone needs. Hell, I even miss the way she scrunches her nose when she’s concentrating.
With a glance at the clock that reads 9:45 p.m. I pick up the phone again and hover over her contact information.
Fuck it.
I type something and hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Dean:
Hey. Don’t want to interrupt your night. Just wanted to see what you were up to.
A minute passes. Then two.
I murmur under my breath how stupid I was being as I rake my hand through my hair. She’s had to watch the kidsall day and work on that stupid grant that I’ve been trying to convince her to let me fund.
Ghost Girl:
Hi, Dean. You’re not interrupting anything. I could use a brain break.
The pulling in my chest unravels.
Dean:
I love this lodge, but I miss home already.
I hope she catches onto my underlying meaning—that it’s her I’m missing.
Ghost Girl:
