Page 161 of The Friend Situation

“Mmm,” I respond. “Love that for you.”

She smirks. “Want to take advantage while I’m feeling very inspired?”

As she begins to type away, the rhythmic tapping of keys fills the cabin. I close my eyes, letting my thoughts drift back to what Easton told me earlier. Somewhere between reality and dreams, I start to doze off, but a sudden whisper jolts me awake.

“Weston,” Carlee murmurs, concern etched on her face, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice raspy.

The cabin lights are dim, casting shadows across her face. The glow of her laptop illuminates her eyes, revealing a hint of worry.

“You seemed like you were having a nightmare,” she says empathetically. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“My anxiety is elevated with the divorce and traveling. Routine keeps me grounded,” I admit, lifting the armrest between us.

She returns her laptop to her bag, wrapping her arm around me. “I understand. I’m always here if you ever want to talk about it.”

“I know.” I hold her a little tighter, feeling the tension in my body begin to dissipate as she comforts me. “Thank you.”

I inhale her perfume and the faint scent of new leather and close my eyes, allowing myself to relax.

“It’s almost over,” she whispers. “It’s almost all behind you.”

“Us,” I mutter against her hair.

The unknown stresses me because Lena is unpredictable. Easton is right. Leaving the city is for the best, at least until the dust settles. The thought hangs heavy in the air.

Time slips through my fingers like sand, and a sense of peace washes over me. I fall asleep with Carlee in my arms, knowing I could stay like this forever.

I wake when the plane rolls to a stop. The pilots greased the landing with such skill that it hardly felt like we touched down. Our pilots are Brody’s ex-military friends, who now work for our company, flying us safely across the globe.

Carlee sits upright, the remnants of sleep still lingering on her face. “I wasn’t even tired. You’re just too comfortable.”

“It’s you,” I reply as we deboard the plane.

An SUV waits for us just outside, and standing next to it is my cousin—the man who saved my life.

He grins, meeting Carlee’s eyes before turning to mine. We exchange a brotherly hug, the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. He is always by my side when I need him.

“I showed up early to ensure everything was safe for your arrival,” he explains, his voice steady, reassuring.

Carlee slides inside, and I move next to her, feeling the comfort of her presence. Brody takes the front passenger seat, keeping his focus ahead, not turning to acknowledge her presence.

“I’m happy you’re here,” she says, patting his shoulder.

Brody doesn’t respond, his demeanor guarded. He’s grumpy, quiet, and all business, especially on trips like this—outside the city, where threats can linger in the shadows. His eyes dart around the vehicle, scanning the surroundings, constantly flicking to the side mirror. I know he carries a collection of firearms just a breath away, ready in case of trouble.

We pull out of the airport, rolling through the private gate, and Carlee opens the group chat where her huge family is now eagerly waiting for updates.

“Take a picture with me?” she asks.

“Sure.”

She holds her phone, snapping a photo. She quickly types a message and turns the screen toward me.

Carlee

Get ready to talk crap to our faces.

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