Page 115 of The Wright Man

"I don't have any to check. These are both carry-ons."

She huffed, folding her arms. "Leek, you know you need to check that big ass backpack."

I grinned. "Look at me. I'm a big ass dude. I can carry it just fine."

That earned me a weak laugh, and I wanted to hear it again. A real one. The kind she gave me when we were kids and everything felt easy.

She reached up and brushed one of my braids behind my ear. "It's gonna be so weird seeing you without this mop on top of your head."

"Yeah, well. Regulation says no more than four inches long, two in bulk, above the collar, off the ears—blah blah blah."

I recited it like a robot, just to make her laugh. It worked.

"It's not like I'd let anybody but you braid my shit anyway," I added.

Her fingers lingered at my jaw. She always did that when she was trying to hold something back. I used to think it was anger. Now I knew better.

"Damn shame," she whispered. "Now you won't have anything to distract people from that face."

I smirked. "You saying I'm ugly?"

"I'm saying you're peaking. You'll never look this good again."

I chuckled. "Never."

We both laughed at that—really laughed—and for a moment, it felt like everything was still okay. Like I wasn't about to walk through that terminal and leave everything I knew behind.

But then her arms were around me. And her voice was small and cracked against my chest.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you."

I held her tighter, burying my face in her hair. Her scent was something warm and soft and familiar. Something I knew I'd crave the second I stepped onto the plane.

"You'll be fine, Angel," I said, trying to believe it myself. "You always are. You're the girl with a million friends now."

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. "A million friends, but only one best friend. There's only one you, Leek."

That did it.

I almost told her then. Almost said what I'd been holding since we were kids. But I couldn't. Not with my ticket in my hand and the past still following me like a shadow.

My throat closed up like someone had cinched it shut with fishing wire. I could still see her younger self in my memory—the awkward little girl who'd declared me her best friend within five minutes of meeting me and never backed off once. Not when I ignored her. Not when I was grieving. Not even when I pushed her away.

Only one Angel. And she picked me.

I gave her a tight squeeze and forced myself to breathe through it. "Promise me something before I go."

Her expression turned serious. "Anything."

I smiled. "Promise me you won't fuck around and marry The Riddler while I'm gone."

She groaned and pulled away from me completely. "Stop calling him that. He's not a villain."

I tilted my head. "You sure? That fade says otherwise."

She snorted and slapped my arm. "He's a good guy, Leek. You'd know that if you ever gave him a chance."

"Don't insult me."