Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)

Pressing on the gas, I force myself forward on the on-ramp and head to the airport.

“LAST CALL FOR FLIGHT 3086 to Atlanta, Georgia.”

With a long, frazzled breath, I watch the steady stream of people board the jet. I should’ve been one of the first between my first-class ticket and the fact that I’ve sat here for an hour. Yet, here I am, still stuck in my seat staring at a coffee pop-up in the middle of the airport.

Like a zombie, I reach for my bag and drag it to my lap. I poke around, searching for my boarding pass when I stumble upon the envelope Peck gave me earlier. It’s leaned up against my wallet, cuddled in amongst my things, like it has all the time in the world to sit there until I decide to open it.

The line still has a handful of people in it, so I go ahead and retrieve the envelope. It’s heavier than I remember and uneven as I hold it like a bomb waiting to go off.

I don’t want to open it. Something tells me to not be antsy and leave it be. I get up and start to gather my things before sitting down and tearing the top open before I can talk myself out of it again.

A key falls to the floor, dinging as it hits the metal leg of the chair. I pick it up and unfold a piece of carefully creased paper, the words hard to read from the tears in my eyes at the first word.

Slugger,

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but there’s only one I’d go back and fix if I could. That’s hurting you. I’m so damn sorry. Once I realized I was in love with you, I panicked and tried to find Tabby to get everything taken care of. I should’ve just told you, but I didn’t. And now we’re both paying for that.

I am in love with you, Sienna. I don’t expect that to absolve me from any guilt for my mistakes, but I want you to know that. I’ve never been in love before now. I know that because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else and I know I could never stop feeling this way or feel it for another person.

The key is to the front door of my house. I waited four years to get a divorce. I’ll wait an entire lifetime for you to come back. Go explore the world. Work for your brother. Whatever it is you want to do. Just know that when you realize you can’t live without me, you know where I’ll be.

Love,

Walker

The paper shakes, my hands trembling, as I make it to the last words. I want to be mad at him, I want to be so jealous that I hate him for having a wife. But both of those things leave me sitting here. Without him.

Looking around the airport, at the man sitting across from me reading a paper with his wife’s head on his shoulder, at the young couple sitting against the wall, laughing at something on her phone, my lips begin to tremble.

The flight attendant at the gate looks at me and I nod, gesturing for her to give me a minute. Wrapping bag straps in my hands, I still don’t get up because reality hits me like a ton of bricks.

If I get on that plane, I’m everything I say I’m not.

Leaving is the weak option. Fleeing is the childish answer. Not fighting for what I want is a betrayal to myself.

If I go, I’m sacrificing everything.

Laughing out loud, I realize everything my mother has ever said and done is true. She didn’t give up a life to stay with my father. Her life was with my father. Just like staying here won’t be giving up my life. It might actually be where it was all along.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I turn to head back to security when the seat next to me is taken.

I sense him before I see him. His cologne finds me before he does. That little flame in my belly that makes me excited and simultaneously calm flickers and I whip my eyes to meet his deep, dark gaze.

“Walker,” I breathe, my bags falling out of my trembling hand to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” he says, sliding his hands down his jeans, “I came to catch a flight to Atlanta that I see I’m about to miss.” He cringes, nodding up towards the flight attendant who’s watching me with annoyance.

“You got a flight? Why?”

My heartbeat pounds. I can feel it in my temple, my entire body heating as I hold my breath and wait, hope, for his answer.

“I thought I could let you go,” he says, his voice full of uncertainty. “I thought I could just wait around and you’d come back.” He leans forward, taking my chin in his calloused hand and angling my face so he can see all the way into my soul. “But I can’t.”