that he hadn’t gotten the flight in time and he’d ended up having the boys for an extra three days.
He couldn’t change it now, but he’d have to do better the next time. The fuel shortage would probably be over by then. Whatever was causing it, he didn’t even know.
He checked to make sure Houston hadn’t come out of the restroom yet, then he looked back down at his phone.
Okay. Good.
Normally he reminded the boys to do that, the last thing before they shut their phones off—text their mother and let her know they were on the plane and fine. The seat belt had thrown him off though. Maybe it was a typo.
He wanted to make sure, so he sent another text.
Did you buckle your seat belt yet?
Yes.
Was that for the first time or the second time?
He had to be clear with Dallas. He’d been the same way as a kid. Although he was pretty sure that the airline would not allow his child to not buckle his belt, he still felt it was his duty to make sure it was done.
The first time.
So it’s not buckled now?
He waited, tapping his fingers on his phone, impatiently watching for the next text to come through. He wanted to get the seat belt thing straightened out before the passengers were told to turn their phones off.
Normally he was pretty relaxed about these things, and he felt a little bit like an overprotective mother rather than the dad. But he supposed that’s what Emerson’s and his separation had caused: when he had his son, whichever one he had, he had to be both mom and dad.
It wasn’t an easy job.
Finally, a message came through.
No. It’s not buckled now. If it were, I wouldn’t be able to be in the restroom right now with Houston.
Reid stared at his phone. He tilted his head and read it again.
Was it saying what he thought it was saying?
Dallas was in the restroom with Houston?
But that was impossible, because Houston wasn’t on the airplane, and Dallas was. Except, if Dallas was with Houston, then Dallas wasn’t on the airplane either. Which would explain why the seat belt wasn’t buckled.
Reid pushed away from the wall and power walked into the bathroom. There were two rows, and he looked down the first, which had several people but no young boys, so he kept walking, and there they were, at the far end of the row, heads together.
Houston, always the more cautious of the two, had been keeping an eye out for him. He supposed he knew it was just a matter of seconds until he’d figured out what Dallas had texted him.
Dallas was bent over his phone but looked up when Reid stopped, staring down the bathroom aisle at his boys standing next to the far wall.
There was no surprise on either of their faces: they were expecting Reid to enter the bathroom.
Several men looked at him oddly as he barely slowed his pace, his boots clomping on the floor and echoing on the bathroom walls, his strides long and deliberate.
He tried to keep his voice down, but his neck felt tight and hot. “What are you doing? That was like the only seat on the only airplane and the only flight this week going to Europe.” He looked at his phone, trying to remember exactly what time the plane was supposed to take off. If he recalled correctly, it was five minutes ago. “You just missed it.”
His boys turned and stood facing him, shoulder to shoulder, their expressions grim but determined. Even Dallas wasn’t fidgeting, and Houston had an uncharacteristic mulish look on his face.
Anger had never been an emotion that Reid had had to deal with. Much. Stubbornness, yeah. Pride, he definitely had a problem with that, as evidenced by his wife being in Switzerland for the last eight years and him being too proud to go get her or at the very least ask her to come home.
Not that she would just meekly come. With every second that he left her there, didn’t go after her, it made it less likely that she ever would, but that was pride. Because he didn’t want to be embarrassed by flying the whole way to Europe to get his wife only to have her tell him he could just shove it.
At one point, he was sure she would come home with him. Now? He was pretty sure she wouldn’t.
Still, he didn’t really feel anger as he looked at his boys.