Whistling to get his attention, I get the bag from him, then walk behind the girls into the jet. Evie’s moving through the space slowly, taking in the small galley, then the couches at the front. Mia is busy reaching into the takeout bag, and stuffing her face with fries, and couldn’t care less where she is. I hope she’s this chill when we take off.
Gently moving Evie into one of the captain’s chairs, I move past her to strap the car seat into a seat at the table. Then, praying the friendship Mia and I built during the ride over holds, I carefully lift her from Evie’s arms, and strap her into the seat.
Taking a tiny hand in mine, I thread her arm through the strap. “Arm through, baby girl.”
“Okey dokey,” she says with a cheerful smile, turning in her seat so she can reach her hand into the bag again.
Chuckling, I guide her other arm, and the bag, through the other strap, then stop to examine the clip on the front. Just when I think I have it figured out, Mia takes the two sides of the clip — with the fucking bag still in her hand — snaps them into place, then reaches between her legs for the little seat belt part.
“Here,” she says, nodding at me encouragingly. I carefully take the clip part in my fingers and follow her instructions. “You push. Push.” I get the first one snapped in. “Good job. Good boy.” She praises before pointing at the second one. She cheers when I get the second one strapped in, then raises her hand for a fucking high-five. This kid is hysterical.
Shaking my head, I turn back to her mama. “You ready to get settled?”
A small smile is playing on her face, getting a kick out of her daughter coaching me through strapping her in, I’m sure. She stands, moving into the seat next to Mia, stopping briefly to adjust the straps. I note the way she tightens them, so I can get it right next time, then move to the seat opposite her on the four top.
The pilots check in, then close up the steps. My guys take seats up front and Miranda, our cabin steward comes through checking on our seat belts, then we’re taxiing down the runway.
Watching Mia’s head on a swivel cracks me up. She’s so interested in everything that’s happening…now that the fries are gone, at least. Suddenly, we speed up, throwing her back in her seat. Her eyes widen and her lip trembles, so I rush to reassure her.
“It’s like a ride, baby girl. Ready? Watch.” Then I throw my arms up in the air. She watches me with raised eyebrows, unconvinced until she feels the wheels leave the tarmac. Then, with a peal of laughter, she throws her arms up too. “Wee! We ride.”
She giggles right until we level out, then Miranda brings her some water and crackers. Evie pulls out an iPad and headphones from her duffel and Mia tunes into her cartoons.
Now that baby girl is happy, I sit back in my seat, meeting Evie’s piercing brown eyes.
“Ask your questions, honey.”
5
EVIE
Still a little shell-shocked, I take a minute to gather my thoughts. I feel like my head hasn’t stopped spinning since this mountain of a man walked into my apartment. I had a plan this morning. Go to Chicago, check things out, then come home and make a plan to get us out of there. Instead, I packed up everything I care about, then let a bunch of strange men cart it away.
And then what did I do? I let a strange man carry me to the car like I’m some damsel. When he picked me up, I was afraid to move, afraid he’d drop us. But Jesus, he carried us like it was nothing. His breathing stayed level the entire time.
Mine didn’t.
At all.
I think there’s something seriously wrong with me.
Actually, no. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m a woman on the verge, pushed there by a shitty man and his shitty friends. Colt, though? He’s weirding me out a bit. He just seems way too happy to be here. But watching the way he interacts with Mia, the smiles and teasing, his willingness to jump in to take care of her in little ways, like strapping her in the car seat? That earns him a lot of credit. But there’s still so much I don’t understand.
I run my fingers through my long hair, absentmindedly twisting it into a messy bun, securing it with the scrunchie on my wrist. When I look up, Colton’s eyes are glazed, staring at the top of my head.
“Colton,” I say, drawing his attention.
He clears his throat, then unbuckles his seatbelt and slouches down on his seat. “Colt, call me Colt,” he mutters.
“Ok. Colt. Can you clarify for me…did you just arrange to buy a house in Columbus for Sonja?”
“Yep,” he says casually, his tone level.
“Just like that? You don’t even know her…I don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t know her, but you do. You left your daughter with her. That means she’s a good woman, right?”
“She’s the best.” I honestly don’t think we would have made it without her.
