Time to go.
Feeling stronger than I would have thought possible, I walked to the front of the house with the guys behind me. I hugged Blake and then looked at Kai. His hands rested on his hips. He didn’t appear happy or approachable, but I knew if I didn’t hug him, I’d regret it forever. With a final scan of the clear skies I stepped to him and slowly slid my arms around his waist.
Being against Kai was nothing like being against Blake. His muscles under my hands, my temple against his collarbone, the explosion of emotion when his arms encircled me—this was not friendship. I loved this boy. I loved him enough to pull away and leave him, which is exactly what I did, our fingers lingering together one final moment before parting. I met his eyes one last time, but it was too much. I could’ve sworn those blue depths were begging me to stay, so I backed away and forced myself to climb into the stifling hot rental car.
They stood on the edge of the pavement and watched as I drove away. I did not allow myself to wallow or yearn. I sped away from the mansion, along the cliffs above the sea, without looking back.
So, that wall I’d built around my heart? As I sat in the airport, awaiting the boarding announcement, something inside me cracked, gouging a deep crevice in my soul that filled with a roaring pain. The hurt was so palpable I could hardly breathe. I must have looked like a mess, because people gave me worried glances.
I wanted Patti. I wanted Dad. Most of all I wanted Kaidan.
I’d called Patti when I got to the airport to let her know I was coming home early. She didn’t ask any questions, but I could hear the sadness and disappointment in her voice when she realized things hadn’t gone well.
I knew I should get up and find the restroom so I wouldn’t make a public scene, but my body did not want to cooperate. For more than a year I hadn’t been able to cry. Now I could feel tears building like my own personal tsunami. Maybe it was the small comfort of knowing the Dukes and whisperers were all at the summit. But to my shock and embarrassment, tears sprung free, gushing down my face. I couldn’t hold them back. And the sounds of mourning that unwillingly dragged themselves up from my throat? Humiliating.
“I’m okay,” I choked out to the old woman next to me who put a hand on my arm. All around me concerned faces witnessed my breakdown. I curled forward, burying my face in my arms and legs, wishing I could disappear.
“Maybe someone died,” I heard a man whisper.
“Is it a young man?” the woman next to me asked in a low voice. I managed to nod and she patted my back. “It always is,” she murmured.
A man across from me touched my shoulder and handed me a crisp handkerchief, telling me in a gentle tone that I could keep it. Their kindness only made me cry harder. I forced myself to sit up and use the hanky to wipe my face and dab my nose. A hush fell when a preboarding announcement was made.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. In a few minutes we’ll begin boarding flight four twenty-eight. . . .”
A murmur of voices and noises filled the air as everyone collected their belongings and checked for their boarding passes. I hiccuped, then sniffed and pulled my boarding pass from my backpack. Through the shuffle of noise I heard a voice that made my ears perk up.
“Anna!”
I hiccuped again, and froze at the sound of that English accent. My head whipped around.
My body clenched—if he was really here something had to be wrong.
The hanky fell to my lap at the sight of Kaidan jogging up the middle of the terminal, stopping at the end of our row of chairs. Holy crap . . . my legs went numb. People halted their shuffling at the presence of this disheveled young man with wild blue eyes. He stood there, hair falling in his face, staring at me with a bizarre expression of euphoria. All eyes went from him to me and back again. A wide path was cleared down the aisle.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. I knew I should stand but it was like my body had gone into shock.
“I—Nothing.” He peered around the area, harried, as if scouting for possible danger.
“How did you get through security?” I asked.
“I bought a ticket.” He looked out of his element and more handsome than ever in his board shorts, dirty T-shirt, and flip-flops. Just as I’d left him.
“You . . . you’re going on this flight?” I was so confused.
“No,” he said, “but those buggers wouldn’t page you. And your phone is off.”
I became acutely aware of our audience as whispers and awws filled the air.
Finally feeling stable, I stood and moved toward him down the path my fellow passengers had made, afraid to let myself hope for what this might mean. I didn’t stop until we were face-to-face.