Page 13 of Wish Me Home

“You’re good at that,” I said, giving his hand a soft squeeze in thank you.

“I am. I’m good at a lot of things.” He bit his lip playfully and waggled his eyebrows. He was being ridiculous, but I appreciated the effort.

“What about you?” I asked.

He looked confused momentarily before the lightbulb went off. “Ah, Mom is a nurse and Dad is as well. As far as siblings go, It’s just me. My parents wanted it that way.”

I quickly caught on that he didn’t give a lot of information freely. While he was all about getting me to open up, his answers were always short and vague. It struck me as odd that he would offer as little as possible about himself, yet I’d been pouring my heart out.

“That hardly seems fair,” I protested.

“What’s not fair about it?”

“I gave you a whole story about my mom and the bakery and my dad. I told you about their infertility struggles and I was lucky to get two sentences out of you.”

He sighed loudly and ran his free hand down his face before he turned to look at me again. “Honestly, the whole nursing thing? It kept them busy. Mom and Dad worked long shifts, and they often left me in the care of babysitters and other family members. I often wondered why they even bothered to have me. When they were home, they were always tired and never wanted to do anything.”

I immediately felt bad for asking, but it’s not like my story had been any less tragic. “Yet they pressure you to come home and visit?”

He squinted and gnawed at his lip again as if thinking over what he wanted to say. He released it with a sigh before answering. “I think me moving so far away woke them up a little. Add on the fact that I’m never there to visit…”

“Where in Oregon are you from?” I realized he’d never specified.

“Portland.”

“And doesn’t Portland have an airport?”

Cody pinched his eyes closed, and he squirmed in his seat. Maybe I was prying too much. I obviously didn’t understand the dynamics of his family.

“It does. And I’ve stopped off a few times. It’s not enough. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough for them,” he answered.

“They miss you.” I knew I was overstepping, and the second he let go of my hand I knew I pushed too far. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared forward.

My heart raced in my chest, pounding against my rib cage. I didn’t like that I’d upset him like that. “I’m sorry. Obviously, I don’t know everything. I just know I’d give anything to see my parents again so when someone doesn’t want to see theirs…”

His hand covered mine again. I looked to where his warm palm covered the back of my hand and squeezed. I grasped his fingers in return, not wanting to let go.

“I get it, Emmett. I really do. My parents and I don’t have a good relationship, I’ve learned to accept that.”

The conversation needed to find safer ground. If we continued down this path, we’d end up arguing again and we still had four hours to get through before we landed. We wanted to still like each other at the end of this.

Instead of talking, we sat in silence for a while. At least it wasn’t awkward. Eventually, I dozed off after not having much sleep the night before. It was the announcement with promises of food and drinks that stirred me awake. I looked at my watch, thinking I’d slept longer, but we’d only been in the air for forty-five minutes.

Cody’s hand was lax against mine, and when I looked over at him, I saw he had fallen asleep. It was a little comical that he could sleep through so much noise. He was probably used to all the noise and people, falling asleep easily anywhere. For someone who seemed so cheery, he sure seemed like he was hiding a lot from me.

The beverage cart made its way down the aisle and stopped next to us. I remembered that the flight attendant’s name was Giselle and asked her for a coke. She smiled, opening the can and handing it to me with a cup of ice. She nodded to where my hand was joined with Cody’s.

“What about our friend there?” she asked.

“Uh…” My cheeks warmed because I realized that Cody and I looked like a legitimate couple and not two people who had met only the night before.

“It’s okay, I think I remember that Cody normally likes ginger ale,” she said, grabbing a can and opening it for him. She handed it to me and I set it on my tray next to my can and cup.

“Thank you, Giselle,” I acknowledged. She gave me a wide grin, moving down the aisle again.

I squeezed Cody’s hand gently, and he stirred. When he opened his eyes, he looked confused for a moment before he realized where he was. He looked around the cabin and then to the drinks on the tray table in front of me.

“How’d you know to get me the ginger ale?”

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