I don’t know how I’m going to make her see it, but I have to find a way.
Shit, is she still asleep?
There’s no way... Meadow is always on time foreverything. Why hasn't she tried to wake me?
A rush of adrenaline rips through my veins as I throw the covers off my half-naked body and scramble out of bed. My suitcase sits half-packed near the wall, not even close to ready to go.
I swipe my phone off the mattress to check for any notifications from Meadow.
My breath hitches when I see an unread text. I blink, my eyes still groggy from sleep, to find that she messaged me at 6:00 a.m. An hour and a half ago.
I’m on my way to the airport. I took a taxi. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. I’ll see you back in Chicago.
My fingers tighten around the phone as I read the message again. My eyes scan across the screen, reading it a third time, hoping like hell that the words might magically change.
But they don’t. She just… left.
Not only did she leave me here alone, but she didn't even say goodbye.
I stand there, staring down at my phone, my pulse almost jumping out of my skin.
Realization hits me right in the gut. Nausea takes over, threatening to rid my body of whatever’s left in my stomach from yesterday.
Suddenly, I feel like I can’t breathe because this isn’t just space.
This is distance.
And if I don’t fight for her, it’s going to become more than that.
This ‘space’ she’s asking for will become final, and I’ll lose her.
No.
I can’t let that happen.
I refuse to let her walk away when I know she wants this just as much as I do. She’s choosing fear over her own happiness. She’s trying to control an emotion that can’t be controlled.
“Fuck space,” I mutter, already moving to gather up a pile of clothes from the floor.
I need to get to her.
I need to get to the airport, right the fuck now.
I start throwing clothes into my suitcase and rub a palm against my jaw, my naked chest heaving up and down as I glance around the room, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to pull this off.
When I spot our gate,I run for the counter with two gate agents behind it, my lungs on fire from sprinting for my life through the airport with my bags.
I have no fucking clue how I made it here. I barely remember shoving all my shit in my suitcase, rushing to the taxi, and sliding into the backseat.
The driver kept trying to be friendly and make small talk, asking simple questions that my brain was too keyed up to answer because the only thing on my mind was getting here. Making it to her.
My stomach is in knots, building with nerves as I think about Meadow being just on the other side of the jet bridge, already on the plane.
I just have to make it on damn this flight. With my luck, the agent will tell me they already closed the door, and I’m too late, even though I can see the plane right through the glass windows.
All the seats in the waiting area are completely empty; all the passengers are already on the aircraft.
I shove the sweaty hair off my forehead and skid to a stop at the counter, trying to catch my breath as I hold out my boarding pass. My heartbeat echoes in my ears as the gate agent scans it, the seconds passing by agonizingly slow.
