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“You takin’ home my gravel or somethin’?” Flynn quipped.
“Nope. Just trying to get home,” I sighed.
There was a heavy silence that hung between us, and I knew that statement hurt him. But dear god, Oklahoma hadn’t been home in five years. And honestly? There wasn’t really ever a point where it truly felt like home. Yeah, it was familiar, and yeah, I fell in love with my country boy while I was in college here, but Paris had welcomed me with open arms, forced me to grow up, and loved me even in my dirtiest of downfalls. It never once screamed at me without a good reason and it never once shooed away my taxis that I needed when I needed them the most.
“Well, hope ya have a good flight,” Flynn murmured.
“I’m sure I will.”
I grabbed my suitcase and wheeled myself into the airport, and that was that. I wanted him to be happy for me, I really did. I wanted him to be as excited about this as I was. I wanted him to understand that Paris was my dream and that I’d achieved my dream at twenty years old! I had been hired as a premier apprentice in Paris before I could even legally drink in the States! God, that was a hell of a shocker when I got to France. I could remember the first night I’d ever gotten slammed drunk. I was with a few other apprentices, and we were at this fancy wine bar spending half our first paychecks on glasses of wine I found out later we could’ve gotten in a grocery for 1/4th the price! We ended up dropping $800 between the five of us, and we all piled into a taxi van, and then we had an argument as to whose place was bigger so we could all crash and vomit in one place.
God, that was the best memory. And it’s a memory I wanted to share with Flynn.
But I couldn’t because he had licked his wounds for days, and now it was time for me to leave.
To go home.
I wished he could just be happy for me. Doesn’t he understand that this is why I didn’t tell him? My heart screamed out to have him there. I wanted him to walk with me up to security until they made him abandon me because he didn’t have a ticket. I wanted to stand in his arms until the very last second. I wanted him to force me to sprint across the airport because he had to have me in the back of his truck one last time before we parted ways.
Damn it, I just wanted him to be supportive. To love me the way he proclaimed and to be happy for me.
And he was just sulking in his truck.
I went and got my ticket before I checked my luggage onto the plane. The bag was way too stuffed to take on the plane with me, so I chucked out the extra money so I wouldn’t have to try and convince the stewardess that it would fit if I shoved hard enough. I sighed and turned around to take one last look at Oklahoma through the airport windows.
But instead, I saw Flynn standing there.
I watched him walk toward me, and I was rooted to my space. Someone shoved me out of the way so they could get to the desk and all Flynn did was reach his arm out to catch me.
“Hey,” he said sternly, “this woman’s just getting over a concussion. Have some decency.”
There he was.
There was my Flynn.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“This.”
He cloaked my back with his strong arms and crashed his lips onto mine. I couldn’t help but snake my arms around his neck, and a few people in line ended up clapping for us. His tongue raked across my lips, and I willingly parted them for him, and I felt tears rise to my eyes. I loved this man with everything I owned. My body was trembling like a twig in the wind, and his arms were holding me to his body as if I weighed absolutely nothing.
“I love you, Flynn. Please believe me,” I begged.
He broke the kiss and stood me on my feet, and when I fluttered my gaze up to his towering form, a tear slipped out and down my cheek. His hand came up to brush it away, and his eyes were so full of pain.
Pain and anguish and betrayal.
“Have a safe flight Chelsea,” he said.
And then I watched him turn his back and leave.
19
Flynn
When I got back to the house, it was emptier than I thought it would be. The kiss at the airport solidified everything I had hoped for, yet feared. My mind was still reeling with our argument a few days before, and the shitty thing about it all was that she was right. I mean, I wasn’t gonna convince her to stay or anything, but I sure as hell couldn’t sit there and tell her that I wasn’t sad about her leaving me behind. I would’ve gone with her in a second if she’d of asked, but she didn’t. And deep down, as much as I hated to admit it, I don’t think I would be where I was today in my career had I followed her.
Still, I wouldn’t have stopped her. God, I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and bring her home. Jesus Christ, I would’ve done anything. I would’ve gotten on my knees and begged for another week, or told her to postpone the flight and I would’ve packed my bags to go with her. I didn’t have a lotta money, but I had enough to hire someone to take over the ranch while I was gone, and I could’ve flown back and forth!
