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Matthew’s face fell slightly. “She left for the airport already, headed back home.”
A knot formed in my stomach. “Why’d she leave so sudden? I thought she’d stay at least another day or two?”
He sighed, running a hand through his sandy hair. “We had a bit of a spat last night after you left. She’s been on me about moving east with her, thinks it’s better for my health.”
“And you don’t want to go?”
He chuckled ruefully. “I’m not ready to be babysat by my daughter just yet.”
I nodded in understanding. “Which airline is she flying with? I need to catch her before she leaves.”
Matthew paused, thinking. “Not entirely sure, but she’s got a bunch of flying miles with United.”
“Thanks,” I said, turning on my heel.
“Blaze,” Matthew called after me as I strode toward my car.
I glanced back.
“You really care about her,” he stated more than asked.
“I do,” I admitted, surprised at how easily the truth came out.
“Then go get her,” he said with a smile that seemed to say he knew more than he let on.
I didn’t need to be told twice. Trisha Easton would not slip through my fingers—not if I had anything to say about it.
I hustled out of Matthew’s apartment building, my heart thumping like a drum in my chest. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks as I jogged to the car. Trisha was out there, probably navigating the chaos of airport security, and here I was, wasting precious seconds. I had to catch her before her flight took off.
As the engine roared to life, I pictured Trisha’s electric blue eyes, the way they sparkled when she laughed. The memory fueled my determination. She couldn’t leave—not without hearing what I had to say.
Traffic snarled ahead, a sea of brake lights and exhaust. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. Of all days, why did there have to be traffic now? Every minute trapped in this gridlock felt like an eternity slipping through my fingers.
I wove through the lanes, my gaze fixed on openings in the congestion as if they were lifelines. The urgency was a living thing inside me, clawing its way up my throat.
Finally, the airport loomed before me, but victory was short-lived. The parking lot was a labyrinth of cars and pedestrians. I circled like a hawk hunting its prey, desperate for an open spot.
At last, I wedged my car into a space that seemed barely big enough to fit. I slammed the door behind me and bolted toward the terminal. My legs pumped hard against the pavement, each stride an echo of Trisha’s name in my head.
Time was the enemy now—a relentless tick-tock in my ears as I dodged travelers and luggage carts. I had to reach her gate before it was too late.
I raced through the terminal, my heart pounding in my chest. I should’ve asked Matthew where Trisha lived. That one detail would’ve narrowed down my search, given me a city to aim for. But I hadn’t, and now I was sprinting on a hope and a prayer that she’d still be here, somewhere beyond the security gates. All I remembered was she mentioned New York once.
I made a beeline for the United counter, sweat dotting my brow. “One ticket to JFK,” I panted to the agent, the closest destination I could think of that made any sense. “When’s the next flight?”
She tapped away at her keyboard, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “Leaves in forty-five minutes,” she said, sliding a boarding pass across the counter.
As I approached the security line, my heart sank. The queue snaked back and forth like some kind of twisted metal serpent, packed with holiday travelers and their overstuffed carry-ons. I didn’t have time for this. Not now.
Taking a deep breath, I approached a security officer standing near the entrance to the line. His badge read “Officer Daniels,” and he watched the crowd with sharp eyes.
“Excuse me, Officer Daniels,” I began, my voice urgent but steady. “I’m in a bit of a situation here. The woman I—I need to speak with is about to board a flight, and I need to get through security fast.”
Officer Daniels looked me over, perhaps seeing the desperation in my eyes or the tension in my posture.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Trisha Easton,” I replied.
