wallet from my back pocket, and he jumps back like I’m pulling a gun when I whip out my credit card.
“Sir, they’re about to begin boarding,” he repeats. “You might not make it.”
“Well then, I suggest you run my card quickly. I’ll take my chances.”
He grits his teeth and types, swipes, and prints the boarding pass. I snatch it and take off. I’m so thankful we’re in Santa Barbara and not L.A. The security line isn’t too awful, though I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet the whole time, making the lot of people around me nervous.
When I’m through security I sprint, counting down the gates as I go. My vision spirals down the hall to Anna’s gate, but I can’t see her.
Come on, come on! I weave through the slow people. When I get a bit closer they announce the initial boarding call. As passengers begin to stand and move, I spot the top of her blond head and I let out an airy laugh.
“Anna!”
It takes a moment, and then her head whips around. Her eyes are red and swollen. My first instinct is to run to her, but she may not want to see me now. She might refuse me—push me away as I’ve so often done to her. But I have to know. I stop at the edge of her row, and it’s as if the people have made a path down the aisle, just for me, straight to Anna.
She seems to be in shock, sitting there at the other end, staring at me, and I seem to be stuck here at the edge of the aisle.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me with fear in her voice.
“I—” I peer around for whisperers. “Nothing.”
Her forehead scrunches. “How did you get through security?”
“I bought a ticket.” I hold it up. The people in the aisle ping their attention back and forth between us like it’s a rom-com tennis match.
“You . . . you’re going on this flight?” she asks.
Clearly this is out of character for me, as she’s quite confused. “No, but those buggers wouldn’t page you, and your phone is off.”
As it sinks into her mind that I’m here for her, she slowly stands and makes her way toward me. I’m so afraid she’ll tell me to leave. I have to get the words out before she boards.
“I . . . I just . . .” Oh, bloody hell, I’m really not good at this. I could talk dirty to her all night, but saying how I feel is altogether different—too exposing. Saying these words is the ultimate vulnerability. Anna must know this. It’s why she needs to hear the words from me so badly.
Bugger. Say something! I lower my voice.
“Anna . . .” Right. That’s a start. What next? Tell her when it all changed. “The night of the summit, when you were saved . . .” She is staring up at me, hanging on every word. “It was the only time in my life I’ve thanked God for anything.”
Her eyes flutter closed and I exhale. I know the words have hit home, because only Anna can understand how huge that was for me. When her eyes open again, we drink each other in. She takes my face in her sweet hands and doesn’t look away.
“I love you, Kai.”
Now it’s my turn to close my eyes as I savor those words. It’s the first time anyone’s said it to me and truly meant it.
I want to say it back, but I’m overwhelmed. That damn urge to cry has hit again, and I can’t allow it. I keep my eyes closed a moment longer and swallow away the burn. When I look at Anna again, I take her face in my hands and she grasps my wrists. I throw myself out there.
“Spend the night with me.”
Her eyes widen. “Kai . . . We shouldn’t.” But there’s no backbone in her words. She’s begging me to talk her into it—to say more of the words she’s hungry to hear. I want to give her what she wants, in every way.
“I’m tired of living like I’m not alive.” I take her shoulders. “I’m bloody sick to death of it. I want one night to be alive. With you.” I press my forehead to hers, and now I’m the one begging. “Please, Anna. One last night and we’ll go back to being safe again. I need this. I need you.”