Page 117 of Sheltering You

Basma stood and hugged Jasmine. They spoke quietly and quickly, their Arabic remarks lost on him as the Hispanic man approached.

Jasmine handed her friend a piece of paper, which the woman shoved in her pocket before hugging her again.

What was that? Derrick wanted to find out, but Basma turned to him and took his hand in both of hers. “Thank you.” She squeezed. “I cannot say how much I thank you.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe. My friend here is going to take you to the train to meet your cousin.” He nodded to the shorter man.

Jasmine hugged Rabie goodbye, speaking to him in Arabic. He smiled at her before focusing on Derrick. He seemed unsure what to say.

Derrick lifted his hand for a high-five. “We did it.”

Grinning, the kid smacked it hard. He turned away, then turned back and, almost like he was embarrassed, said, “Thanks.”

“Happy to do it. Take care of your sister.” He winked. “And treat her right.”

Basma took Rabie’s hand, and they followed the other man back into the Grand Central concourse, disappearing into the crowd.

And just like that, it was over.

Soon enough, Derrick and Jasmine would be in Maine. Safe and sound. Which was what he’d wanted, more than anything. Except it wasn’t just this adventure that had ended.

It was also the end of Derrick’s hope for a future with the woman he loved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jasmine should feel nothing but relief at having delivered Rabie safely to Basma. And she was relieved. Thank God He’d kept them safe and reunited them.

But things had forever changed between her and Derrick.

It was too loud in the concourse and on the street to talk. In the parking garage elevator, she asked, “Basma’s cousin lives in New York? You never said.”

“I don’t know.” He leaned against the opposite wall, the car moving slowly and dinging with each floor. They were alone going up. “She took the train in this morning, and they’ll head back to…wherever. I saw you hand her a note. What was it?”

“A new email address. I set it up this morning so we can stay in touch.”

He straightened. “What? Why would you⁠—?”

“Otherwise, I would never speak to her again.” Jasmine turned toward the doors as they reached the proper floor. “I won’t tell her where I live. I won’t take risks. But she is still my friend.”

“I don’t like it.”

Which was why she hadn’t told him in advance.

The doors opened, and they passed a throng of people waiting to go down.

Nearing the car, she said, “I can drive, if you like.”

Derrick shot her what might be considered a smile—by someone who didn’t know him. “New York drivers would eat you alive.”

“I can do it. I had a good teacher.”

He didn’t react to the compliment. “I got it. Thanks, though.”

He clicked the button to unlock the doors. Often, in the past, he would open her door for her, but he walked straight to the driver’s side and climbed in.

He put an address in the navigation system while she buckled her seatbelt.

“How long will it take?”