Page 88 of Wandering Wild

Summer makes a huffing sound. “Just becauseyoudidn’t get anyone’s contact details doesn’t meanIdidn’t.” She glances at Maddox, a strange, almost sly look entering her eyes. “Orwe, I should say. Right, Maddox?”

My best friend shuffles his feet, not looking at anyone, and I wonder what that’s about. But I don’t have a chance to think on it before Gabe steps up to us, frowning at me all over again.

“This is all well and good,” he says in a snippy tone, “but if you would onlylistento me and check your phone, you’d see that the solution to your problem is painfully simple.”

“My problem?”

Gabe looks at me as if I’m mad, and says, with emphasis, “Charlie.”

“What are you on about?” Maddox asks him.

Gabe finally loses his patience and snaps, “Just read the damn email, Zander.” When he sees my eyebrows shoot upward, he sucks in a calming breath and says, in a gentler tone, “Please, trust me. I promise you’ll understand in a moment.”

I have no idea why this means so much to him, especiallynow, of all times, but I pull my cell from my jeans pocket and bring up my emails. My inbox is a disaster zone after having been neglected for most of the last week, but I ignore the blaring notifications and tap on the most recent arrival, seeing the wordsFWD: CONFIDENTIAL—FOR YOUR EYES ONLYin the subject line. It’s redundant, but I don’t mention that to Gabe since he’s already on edge.

The airport Wi-Fi is so slow that I have to wait for the email to load, then for the attached document to download, but when it does, I’m so shocked that I need a full minute to process what I’m reading.

When it finally sinks in, I gasp out an incredulous, “Is this for real?”

Hearing the disbelief in my tone, Maddox and Summer peer over my shoulder and read the words for themselves. Maddox barks out a laugh and slaps me on the back, while Summer squeals and throws her hands in the air.

Gabe just smiles, before tapping on his phone, and a second later, I receive another notification.

It’s a new plane ticket.

For today.

Only, it’s not to Los Angeles.

Summer’s phone pings, as does Maddox’s, and I know Gabe has sent them both new tickets as well.

Then my agent steps forward and, in a rare display of affection, he pulls me into a hug, saying in my ear, “I’ll see you when you get home. Fly safe.”

I’m still reeling, so all I can do is squeeze him back and croak out, “Thank you.”

His arms tighten around me as he hears the depth of meaning in my words, since I know—Iknow—he had a hand in the email I just read, even if I don’t know how he did it. But then he releases me quickly again, straightening his suit jacket as he warns, “You’re leaving from a different terminal. I suggest you run.”

I don’t need to be told twice, and after one last grateful look, I take off in a mad dash across the airport with Maddox and Summer sprinting beside me.

Fear is screaming at me to stop. Doubt is begging me to turn around.

But I ignore them both, because something else is urging me onward, something much more powerful:

Hope.

I’m running late.

I was meant to be at work twenty minutes ago, but Jerry is taking pains to make up for his distance over the last few months, and that meant he wanted us to enjoy a home-cooked breakfast together this morning. Since he can’t boil water without setting the house on fire, I had to step in to save us both from his good intentions, which delayed my preparation forThe Little Mermaid–themed birthday party I’m supervising today, and left me rushing around last-minute to get my costume ready.

Sandy so owes me for taking this shift, since the last thing I want to be doing right now is driving through our sleepy coastal town dressed as Sebastian the crab, complete with googly eyes, antennae, and pincers. If I had my choice, I’d be curled up in bed and crying my heart out—which, outside of making breakfast, is all I’ve done since we flew home from Sydney yesterday.

It’s ridiculous that I miss Zander so much, when a week ago, I didn’t even know him—and what I did know, orthoughtI knew, I despised. But I can’t deny what I’m feeling, or the depth of my pain knowing I’ll never see him again.

Ember stayed with me last night, holding me as I sobbed until I had no tears left, just like she did the night before in Katoomba. When I woke this morning, she was gone, but there was a note on my pillow saying she’ll see me at work later today. I hate that I’ve been such an emotional mess over the last two days, especially since I’m the one who pushed Zander away—and have regretted it ever since—but I also don’t know how to stop the ache that’s like a dagger buried in my chest.

While I might not feel like supervising this birthday, I’m grateful for the distraction it will provide. For three hours, I won’t have time to feel sorry for myself, since I’ll be too busy helping a bunch of mermaids and princes concoct gaudy ice-cream creations. If nothing else, it’ll offer a reprieve from my relentless heartache. Not even the exhilaration of having figured out what I want to do next in life has helped ease my pain—though at least it’s kept me from dwelling on the fact that I’m currently driving down Main Street dressed as a bright red crustacean. I always have to leave my dignity at the door on party days, but today is next-level commitment.

Upon arriving at Sandy’s Scoops and Sprinkles, I glance around the parking lot, relieved to find no trace of the paparazzi I feared would follow me home from Katoomba. I was certain they would hound me for days after the trip, begging for interviews and media appearances, but aside from a small group waiting at the hotel yesterday morning and another cluster at the Sydney airport, I’ve mostly been left alone. I can only assume that with Zander gone, they’ve already moved on to the next big scoop, and I’m immensely thankful for that—especially since it means there’s no one around to witness me in all my crabified glory as I struggle to get out of my car. The padded legs attached to my sides are particularly unruly, making me so frustrated that I almost tear them off.

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