Page 95 of SnowBound

I lingered on a bench near the departure gate area, my guitar in hand, trying the new song that had been nagging me all night. The memories of being here last year had awoken the creativity section of my brain, and lyrics and melodies battled in my head for an outlet.

A middle-aged man sat next to me. “How is it going?” he asked.

Lost in my creative flow, I wished to not be disturbed. I removed the pen I was squeezing between my teeth and noted the new arrangements in the notebook I always kept around.

“Good.” I returned my focus to my guitar, hoping he would get the message. The only person allowed to interrupt me tonight hadn’t shown up yet. If she would ever do.

The man listened to my playing for a long beat before moving to his feet. “You are very talented. No doubt you’ll make it big someday. Good luck.”

I nodded a Thank you as he spun on his heels and left.

Taking a break and sipping on what must have been my sixth cup of coffee, I people-watched everyone who passed in front of me. A family of four, the kids sporting huge smiles and hopping around, barely listening to the directions their father had repeated at least thrice. Even I, who had been distracted, could recite them. A couple in their early twenties was laughing. Wearing a Santa hat, the girl sat on a luggage caddy while her boyfriend pushed her around. At some point, he stopped and pulled her to him, kissing her senseless. The girl smiled against his lips and when she leaned back, stars lit up in her gaze.

My heart frizzled in my chest.

Loads of memories crashed through me.

Why was I here? This was beyond stupid. One year had gone by since Abby and I shared a night. One night. Not months, years, or a lifetime, but a single night.

Why couldn’t I let it go?

Why was I still hooked up on this a year later? Was my life so lame I had nothing better to do?

After I played at the Christmas office party, hosted by Joe’s father, I should have asked to stay at their place for a night, instead of being here, searching for a ghost. One I had no idea if she recalled my sorry ass.

Picking up my bag and guitar case, I was about to move to the waiting area when I spotted black hair in the distance. My heartbeats went ballistic. Sweat gathered in my armpits. My throat itched, my mouth dry.

Could it be—?

I blinked, waiting.

My hands shook with anticipation, and I dropped my luggage at my feet.

From where I stood, I couldn’t tell if it was her.

My skin prickled as I stood there, frozen.

The guy hiding her from my sight sidestepped, and she turned around.

I held my breath, readying myself for any eventuality.