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“Good job.” Grayson nods, his voice steady over the noise. He’s calm, collected. Always has been.
I lean back, trying to match his ease, but then I see her. Brielle. She’s seated across the aisle, three rows ahead, laughing with some guy I don’t recognize. Her head tilts back, and her laughter dances through the cabin, light and free.
A frown creases my forehead. It’s an involuntary reaction, like a reflex, to the sight of her so at ease with someone else. It’s not jealousy. It can’t be. But there’s this tightness in my chest that I can’t shake off.
Grayson’s elbow nudges mine, a silent gesture that pulls me from my brooding. His eyes narrow slightly, the corners crinkling with concern.
“Something up?” he asks, voice low enough to be drowned out by the hum of the engine.
I flick a glance back toward Brielle. Her head is bent close to the man’s, her hand brushing against his arm in a familiar way. My grip tightens on the armrest.
“Her,” I say, tilting my chin in Brielle’s direction, “with him.”
Grayson follows my gaze, then turns back with a shrug. His hand pats my shoulder, a fleeting touch meant to comfort, or maybe to chide.
“Jealousy’s a bad look on you.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He glances around the cabin, then leans closer. “Remember, we agreed. No one knows about us. It’s safer this way.”
I know he’s right. The secrecy is for protection, for all our sakes. But logic does little to soothe the heat simmering beneath my skin.
“Keeping up appearances,” I echo, voice flat. It doesn’t make the sight any easier to swallow.
“Exactly,” Grayson says, and there’s an edge of command in his voice now. “She’s playing her part. We play ours.”
I nod, forcing my gaze away from Brielle. There’s nothing to do but trust—in her, in this complicated thing we have. And in Grayson, who always seems to see the bigger picture when my view narrows to a single point.
“Right,” I murmur, settling back into my seat, trying to ignore the twist in my gut as the plane taxis down the runway.
When the wheels touch down, a shudder running through the cabin, my heart races, though not from the landing. I unbuckle, stand, and scan over heads and baggage. No Brielle.
“Looking for someone?”
It’s Grayson, voice casual as if he doesn’t already know. I nod, trying to keep my tone even.
“Can’t spot Brielle.”
He hoists his bag from the overhead bin, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “She left her seat early. Went straight for the exit.”
My pulse kicks up a notch. “Why?”
“Family emergency.” He drops his voice. “Her dad needs her.”
“Damn.” The word slips out, tinged with concern…and something else. Possessiveness. I hate it, but it clings to me, unshakable.
“Take it easy, man.” Grayson claps my back. “She’ll be okay.”
“Yeah.” I force a breath out. “Yeah, she’s strong.”
“Where to now?” he asks as we shuffle toward the aircraft door.
“Going to see Nina.” The name steadies me, a reminder of what matters beyond this tangled web we’re caught in.
“Good.” Grayson nods. “She’ll like that.”
We part ways in the terminal, him to his sleek car, me to the rental counter. The keys feel cold, foreign in my hand, nothing like the warm reassurance of Brielle’s touch.
I slide into the driver’s seat, start the engine. It hums to life, a dull roar that can’t drown out the silent chant in my head—Be safe, Brielle.
As I pull away from the curb, the possessiveness settles into worry, a stone in my chest. But for now, there’s Nina. She needs me too.
