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“Stay,” I whisper against her lips.
“Zane—”
“Stay.”
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“You’ve already done enough.”
“Whoever’s after you… They’ll have to go through me.”
Willow’s eyes grow misty. “The people who are after me will make your life a living hell.”
“They can try.”
“Leaving you is a mercy, Zane. It’s for your own good as well as mine.”
I dip down to kiss her deeply, our lips slotting in place. Everything about this woman drives me crazy. The softness of her skin, the sweet scent of her floral shampoo, the taste of her strawberry ChapStick… I want every part of her, to hold and savor and claim.
But she is not mine.
She pulls away and my chest hollows out.
“I have to go,” she whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear her final words. “Maybe in another life.”
Willow heads toward security and disappears amidst the crowd.
I remain standing there for a few more minutes, numb from head to toe. After one final breath, I turn on my heels and leave through the airport’s sliding doors.
Chapter 12
Willow
The voice in the back of my head is screaming. I want to go back. It isn’t too late. If I run, I can probably still catch Zane and take him up on his offer.
“Shoes and jacket off, please,” the TSA officer says to me when I get to the front of the line.
I pause. It isn’t too late. It isn’t. I could turn around right now—and I’m aware how suspicious that might look, but I don’t care—I could probably throw myself into the back of Zane’s car before he drives off.
“Ma’am,” the TSA officer says tersely. “Shoes and jacket off.”
Reluctantly, I bend over to untie my shoelaces. My heart thuds loudly in my chest. I can’t explain this awful twist in my guts. I’ve only known Zane for a little under a week, yet three minutes without him and I’m an anxious mess. Imisshim. His warmth, the sound of his voice, the safety of his arms.
“Ma’am, come with me.”
I look up. Another TSA officer is standing in front of me. “Is something wrong? I was just about to step through.”
“We would like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Why?” I ask sharply.
“It’s a random check, ma’am. Totally routine. Please, come this way.”
My stomach flips. It’s not like I have a choice, now do I? If I make a scene, I’ll probably end up detained and miss my flight. “Fine,” I grumble, snatching up my things.
I’m escorted to a side room at the very end of a long, narrow hall. The fluorescent lighting above hurts my eyes, and the dull white color of the tiles, floors, and ceilings makes the whole place feel distant and clinical. The officer shows me to a room with a single metal table and chair, both of which are bolted to the floor—probably for safety.
