Chapter 1

My rage-fueledescape-my-life plan fizzles at the Empire International Airport.

Thwarted by ticket prices.

What was I thinking? Airlines don’t offer “broken heart” discounts.

A last-minute ticket for the places I’d want to go would drain almost everything I’ve managed to save in my bank account.

Defeated, I turn away from the ticket counter and shuffle toward a low, white bench by the floor-to-ceiling window looking out over the parking garage. Fatigue drags my butt down to the bench where I sit with my back to the window. I rest my elbows on my thighs and drop my head into my hands. Every nerve from my shoulders to my fingertips throbs, triggering a cascade of misery to rain over me.

The sound of shattering glass echoes in my mind.

I destroyed the car Griff gave me. The car we lovingly restored together.

No, no, no.

Every timeI think I’ve pushed “the big bad thing” that made me take a bat to the car out of my head, images of Griff and Kiki in bed together replay.

The only man I thought I’d ever love betrayed me for all the world to see.

Running away won’t solve this pain.

Forget my lack of escape funds, I have a job, and my internship this summer. Remy went out of his way to secure the internship for me. It’s important for the career I want to have one day.

Why should I give up my future just because Griff decided to stick his dick where it didn’t belong?

“You all right, miss?” a rough but kind voice says from above me.

I tip my head up. Awareness that twin hot, wet trails are running down my cheeks chases a response out of my mouth. Embarrassed, I quickly wipe the tears away.

“Huh?” I mumble stupidly, staring at the airport security guard standing a respectful distance away.

“You, um, look upset.” Alert dark brown eyes bore into mine. “Do you need help?”

Help getting over my boyfriend. But I don’t think this stranger can help me with that need. “No, no. I’m fine.” I force a quick, fake smile. “Thank you.”

He’s young. Probably not much older than my brother. And apparently persistent. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asks.

Do I look suspicious or something?

“Not really.” Way to give a vague answer, genius. He’s going to call for backup any second.

“Here.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a flat green-and-white card. “You look like you could use a hot chocolate. Starbucks is on the second floor.” He tips his head toward the escalators.

Empire International is only “International” in name. The airport’s small—I can see the green-and-white Starbucks awning from where I’m sitting. But I nod and reach for the card. “Thanks.”

He studies me as I take the card from his hand. Our fingers briefly touch. His eyebrows pinch together.

Crackers. What if he’s not worried I’m a safety risk? What if he watches Supreme Underground Fighter?What if he saw the episode last night and feels sorry for me because I’m a pathetic loser whose boyfriend couldn’t wait to cheat on her?

I gotta get away from him before he asks more questions.

I stand and hike my small backpack over my shoulder.

“You have any luggage?” he asks. Okay, maybe he’s still trying to decide if I’m a teenage terrorist and hasn’t seen the show.

I hate this!

“Just one bag.” I shrug, inching my backpack forward.

“Traveling light. Smart.” One corner of his mouth curls up. He’s cute. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt are stretched to their limits by his muscular arms. He’s tall, towering over me without looming. Not as tall as Griff, though.

Good grief, am I going to compare every man I meet to Griff for the rest of my life?

“Thanks again.” I wave the gift card through the air and turn toward the escalator.

Being at the airport but unable to fly anywhere seems masochistic. But I haven’t decided where else to go. The Uber I took from Johnsonville cost more than I make at Miller’s Farms in a week of afternoon shifts. Remy’s going to go nuclear when he sees the charge on his credit card. I’ll pay him back.

Upstairs, I step off the escalator and walk into the small cafe. The line’s short. I’ve barely settled on my order when I’m motioned toward the register by a tired-looking cashier. “Iced blonde cherry mocha and a blueberry scone.” I choke out the last word. I’ll never be able to eat another muffin again without thinking of Griff, so scones it is from now on.

The cashier tilts her head and frowns at me. I force my second fake smile of the morning and hand over the gift card. “I’m not sure how much is on it.”

She nods and takes the card. There’s enough for my order and maybe another coffee later. I stuff the card in my pocket and pull out a crinkled dollar bill for the tip jar.

A few minutes later someone calls my name. I collect my order at the counter and turn around. Every seat in the tiny cafe is jammed full of travelers with their carry-on bags. To keep the green mist of jealousy at bay, I head downstairs and reclaim my bench by the window.

I don’t want to go home. Obviously, I can’t stay here forever, though. Not every security guard will be as friendly as gift card guy. I bite into my scone. Crumbs tumble down my chin, landing on my chest. I brush them off my sweatshirt and take a sip of my iced coffee. The fake, cherry-chocolate sweetness floods my mouth and I almost gag. Why couldn’t I order plain iced coffee like a normal person?

“Feeling better?”

This time I smile up at the security guard. I lift my drink. “Much. Thank you, again.”

“No problem.” He pats his pocket. “I’m one of the Airport Angels. We keep a stash of cards to hand out to weary-looking travelers.”

“Wow. That’s, uh, really nice of you.”

He shrugs.

Unsure of what else to say, I sip my coffee again. This time, the unusual flavor isn’t as shocking to my tongue.

“You need me to call anyone for you?” he asks.

“No.” I pull my cell phone out of my sweatshirt pocket and check the battery life. Not wanting to deal with any “where are you” texts from Remy, I put it in airplane mode when the Uber dropped me off. Still have forty-five percent. Did I even grab my charger when I left the house?

“All good.” No idea who I’ll call when I finally decide what to do but I don’t want to impose on this stranger any longer.

“My name’s Nathan. If you need anything.” He glances over his shoulder toward the ticket counter where a customer’s raising his voice at the person in line behind him.

“Thanks, Nathan.” I don’t feel like giving him my name and he doesn’t ask.

He wanders toward the grumpy travelers, stopping to speak into a radio clipped to his shoulder.

That’s enough fun at the airport. It’s time to figure out my next move before I get into trouble for loitering.

I’m not ready to throw myself into the unknown, yet. As much as I hate it, the pain in my heart can’t be soothed by running away.