Page 95 of Breaking News

They paid no attention to the rest of us sitting in strained silence as the taxi made its way to the airport. Xander avoided my eyes, staring out at the graffiti-covered overpasses instead.

We did exchange a few words outside the hotel. I’d asked him if he wanted Graham’s charger and tried to hand it to him like some kind of awkward peace offering, but he mumbled something about buying one from Walgreens.

That was it.

Graham didn’t have much to say, either. Not to me, personally, anyway. He defaulted to his role as the group leader, ensuring none of us left anything behind. And as we waited on the cab, he told a story to no one in particular about the time Olivia forgot her Dyson Airwrap in a hotel room and didn’t realize it until they were an hour down the interstate.

The fact that he knew what a Dyson Airwrap was made me smile, in spite of myself.

After that, he was quiet again, and he stayed that way. There was no cheerful small talk with the cab driver this time. No mention of Woodvale or where we worked. Just heavy silence.

LaGuardia was chaotic. I followed the others through security, shaking when I couldn’t get my items in the plastic bins fast enough to satisfy the person behind me. We were in constant, frenzied motion until we reached our crowded gate.

Graham sat across from me instead of in the open seat beside me, leaving a gap between himself and Xander. I tried not to read into it—he was probably just giving me space, after all.

Meghan and Chase’s exhaustion seemed to finally catch up with them, and she curled against his side like she might fall asleep. She lazily picked at the zipper on the backpack on his lap while he scrolled on his phone.

Xander pulled that same black hoodie over his head again, despite the fact that it was the middle of July. The hood gave him something to disappear into, I guessed. A way to shield us all out. Graham looked him over before scooting to the edge of his seat with a deep breath. “Does anyone want to get breakfast?”

Meghan let out a little grunt, burrowing closer to Chase’s chest. “Meg and I are good,” Chase said. Xander didn’t respond at all.

Graham’s eyes found mine, and when I quietly shook my head, he stretched his leg out in front of him to tap his foot against mine. “You should get something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I tucked my hands beneath my thighs.

“You haven’t eaten since the conference,” he said, locking eyes with me. My stomach fluttered. Not from hunger, but from the way he was openly and publicly showing concern for me. Like I was someone he needed to take care of.

“I’m not hungry, Graham,” I repeated, the words coming out a little sharper than I intended. His lips parted in surprise, and from the corner of my eye, I caught Xander tugging back hishood just enough to study Graham’s reaction. He eyed me next, and the attention from both of these men was a little too much at the moment.

I rose to my feet, dropping my carry-on bag in my seat before walking off without a word. I made a beeline for the little bookstore tucked in the corner of the concourse. My eyes scanned the row of best-sellers on the table, but my head was too foggy to register any of the titles.

My body and my brain were just so… tired. I almost wished I didn’t have that doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, because curling up in bed and disappearing for a while sounded like heaven.

I felt someone on my left and started to step aside until I spotted the black hoodie. Xander sidled up beside me, pretending to be interested in a thriller with a shadowy cabin on the cover.

“Maybe your book will be here someday,” I said, looking at his face.

He looked over his shoulder as though someone might have heard his big secret. “Doubt it,” he said, turning back to me.

I sighed and let my hand rest on a bright yellow self-help book with blocky letters shouting about boundaries and burnout. Xander scooted closer.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he said, thumbing through the pages of the book under his hand. “About you and Graham.”

A woman brushed behind us, muttering something to a man with a briefcase. I flipped the yellow book over and stared at the author’s headshot on the back. “Thank you,” I said, feeling a little ashamed about my “Holden fucking Caulfield”comment earlier that morning. “I appreciate your discretion.”

He nodded, running his fingers over the raised foil lettering of a fantasy novel between us on the table. “Do they know?” he asked, nodding in the direction of our gate.

“Meghan does,” I said. I stepped closer, making him look at me. “And so does your intern.”

Xander’s eyes widened. “Isaiah?”

I nodded. “He caught us yesterday morning before we left.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. My thoughts exactly,” I said, frowning down at the books. “Xander, are he and his uncle close?”

He lifted a hand to play with the strings of his hoodie. “Noah’s been taking him golfing this summer. I think their family’s pretty tight-knit.”

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