Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

then a whole roll of white bandage gauze. This lady comes prepared. This lady …. I frown.

“What’s your name?”

She looks up, and her brows scrunch together. “Lord, you’re right, how rude, we’ve never introduced ourselves. I’m Mavis, but everyone calls me Mav. I already know your name, though. I knew it the first day; that’s why I never thought to do this properly.” Shaking her head, she looks back down. She dabs the dollop on her finger onto the cuts.

“You know what else is rude?” She asks.

I shake my head.

“Interrupting someone when they are speaking. Now, as I was saying.” I shut down the snort that tries to burst out at this sassy old lady. What spunk, but didn’t I already know that? Her and Emma could be related. That thought sobers me, and I pay closer attention to what Mav is saying to distract me from my lungs burning with every breath.

“After that, we found what worked for us. The best part of having separate trips is when we come home. It’s a good reminder. We find appreciation for the small things we lived without for a week that got brushed underneath the rug of everyday life. You hear what I’m saying?” She peers up over her glasses but continues to wrap my hand with the gauze.

I nod, but in truth, I have no idea what she’s trying to say. Her eyes squint, and they are quick as they assess me. Sighing, she leans back in her seat and starts to put the supplies away.

“I’ve already said I’m not blind. You’re apart right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re over. Whatever you did, after you fix it, you’ll both have a better understanding of how you’ll go forward.”

“And if I wasn’t the one that caused this?”

She zips her bag closed and sets it in her lap, clutching it with both hands. Again she squints her eyes. “When someone leaves, it’s never one person’s fault. Take that advice from someone that knows what she’s talking about. Though I wouldn't worry, a woman wouldn't leave a man that views her as his whole world. And son, the way you look at her, I know that's the way you feel, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. So, whatever you need to do to get her back, I suggest you do it now and do it quick. Life is too short for the amount of bullshit it throws at us to go through it alone.” She smiles. “Excuse my language; quoting my husband rarely excludes foul language. It’s the marine in him.”

“Cussing has become an integrated part of language. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Thanks for bandaging me up.”

“Someone needed to do it.” She smiles, releases one hand from her bag, and extends it to me. “Be a dear, and help an old lady back to the airport.”

As I take her hand, there’s not a doubt in my mind she understands my need to protect is stronger than my paranoia. It’s only when we are in front of her terminal that we part ways. She hands me a piece of scrap paper she grabs from her luggage. “I’m a sucker for romance stories. Call me with yours when you find your Emma.” She pats me on my face before walking through the gateway.

When she disappears around the curve, I head towards my own gate. I’d collected my ticket information in the cab on the way in. The knowledge of being a few hours of standing back in my hometown has unclassifiable and unchecked emotions entering my bloodstream. If I were to guess, it’s a combination of coming up and down from a high all at once. The inevitable crash of it without diazepam and no amount of recovery time will be long enough to repair the internal damage.

Taking my seat at the back of the plane settles my body but does nothing for my mind. We’re packed in here like sardines. On the original flight, there weren’t as many people wanting to get to Georgia.

“Can’t believe how peaceful it is out there compared to how it’s been the last few days,” the girl says in the seat next to me on her phone. “I expected more trees down or something.” She must be blind. Everywhere I looked on the way here, it was clear that crews were working on getting debris off the roads. She nods. “Yeah, it shouldn’t take long for us to take off.” Looking past her and out of the window, there are still crews in the distance hauling what is left of trees, and pieces of metal.

Standing, I grab my bag from the overhead and pull out my earbuds along with my phone. I know her type. As soon as she gets off that call, she’ll look over and try to start a conversation with me. With what’s turning inside my head, I can’t count on not snapping at her.

Connecting them together, I slip in the earbuds and lean my head back on the seat, closing my eyes. My phone is off, the buds only muffling the sounds around me, so I know when she gets off her phone. Surprisingly, she’s quiet, and I sag further into my chair as we take off.

Right before the plane levels out, there is a brief lightness in my body after the pressure of the ascension. Emma appears behind my eyelids, and they snap open. How can my body still associate the small excitement of weightlessness after what she’s done?

Brushing my sweaty palms against my jeans, I take one last breath in. On its exhale, I knock on my sister's front door.

She chose a nice neighborhood, one far away from where we grew up. There are kids playing off to my right, someone planting flowers at my back, and to my left, an older woman sits on her porch drinking her sweet tea. Her eyes trained on me like a hawk and its next meal.

The grip on