I know that grip. That’s not someone nervous about a delay. That’s someone holding themselves together.
She flashes me a smile, but her jaw is tight.
“Well, thanks for the chat, Fletch. Ollie,” she adds, “I hope you don’t mind if I listen to my ‘Certified Non-Toxic Positivity’ podcast now.”
“Non-Toxic Optimism Revolution,” I correct her with a forced laugh. She’s polite enough to return it. “And no problem.”
She puts her earbuds in.
I put mine in, too.
We both stare straight ahead. Two people pretending to be fine, pretending we’re not dreading whatever’s coming when we land. At least she has something to listen to.
All I have are my thoughts.
And they’re not pretty.
CHAPTER FOUR
POPPY
We hit turbulence just outside of Denver.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain again. We’re about to begin our descent into Denver, but significant weather activity is affecting the northeast corridor. Unfortunately, we’ve received confirmation that all flights to the region have been canceled.”
Groans issue from all over the plane. Including from my seatmate, Fletch. Ollie.
“If you were bound for Rochester, please see our ground team for rebooking and accommodations. And we ask you to please remain seated with your seatbelts securely fastened until we reach the gate in Denver. Thank you for choosing Blue Horizon.”
When we get off the plane, it’s chaos.
Everyone who was headed to Rochester is rushing to find a ground agent to speak to. The lines at the various desks stretch endlessly.
I head straight for the rental cars.
Flying to Rochester is a lot easier than driving—nothing like twenty-something hours of icy highways and caffeine jitters—but when flights to a region are canceled, your options dry up fast. I’ll be looking at waiting two days for a flight and maystillhave to rent a car. And there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to get home in time.
Which wouldn’t be the worst thing …
Guilt nips at my gut. No. I need to make it home. I owe it to my dad to make it.
As I power-walk, a familiar dark red hoodie catches my eye—I’m not the only person who had this idea. My seatmate is heading for the rental cars, too.
Oh, heck no.
I speed up.
So does he.
I start running.
So does he.
Unfortunately for him, my size is an advantage. Even with my rolling suitcase, I’m able to tuck and duck and weave easily through crowds that hold him up. He’s big enough that he could probably bowl everyone over, but that doesn’t fly in an airport (pun intended). He’s just too big to get past people.
I’m well ahead of him when we reach the corridor that leads down to the airport’s Ground Transportation Center.
Shoot.
