Page 1 of My Brother's Best Friends

1

MAKAYLA

“Hold the plane!”

I sprint, but I’m too late—the boarding gate is already locked.

“I’m sorry, boarding has finished, and we can’t let anyone else on,” a clerk says.

“But I can see it right there,” I tell her, pointing to the jet idling outside the window.

“Boarding is complete, ma’am,” she says, her tone flat.

“Please, you don’t understand. I’m supposed to meet my brother in Stockholm, and if I’m not on that plane, he’s going to be so disappointed. He needs me there,” I say, my voice rising.

She shakes her head. “Would you like me to look for the next available flight?”

“I want a seat onthatflight,” I say, jabbing my finger toward the window.

The ticket taker sneers. “Ma’am, do I have to call security?”

I can almost see the dismayed look on Bryan’s face when I do make it to Stockholm. It’s a look I will never be able to live down. As if the universe hasn’t tested me enough these past couple of weeks.

I exhale. “Fine,” I say to the ticket clerk. “I’ll take another flight.”

“Right this way.” She leads me to another computer terminal, then leaves to finalize the paperwork for the flight I just missed.

I drum my fingernails on the counter, impatience thrumming through me. Maybe Bryan’s already settled into the chalet. I hope he’s enjoying the mountain views and good company. I wish I were with him, but I’m staring at an eight-hour flight and who knows how much time before the next plane takes off.

The ticket clerk returns and gives me a tight smile. My heart stutters, still hoping for the best.

“How many passengers will be traveling with you?” she asks.

I look around. “It’s just me.”

“Would you be open to a layover in London?”

“Sure.”

“Great,” she says. “There’s a flight leaving in an hour from Gate A15.”

I exhale. “Thank you.” One hour isn’t so bad. I wasn’t expecting a layover, but beggars can’t be choosers. I grab the ticket from her and hightail it to the right gate.

This time, I’m among the first to board. I make my way to my seat, thrilled that I scored a window. I open the shade to look out at the tarmac. Airport staff buzz around like bees as they load our bags into the plane. I hunt through my carry-on for myearbuds and sync my phone to the plane’s Wi-Fi. I’m all ready to go by the time the last passenger arrives.

The Wi-Fi flickers and the ride turns bumpy, but as long as I can stare out at the clouds and the faint curve of Earth below, I’m content.

During my London layover, I kill two hours nursing a coffee and sampling local pastries, even splurging on a flaky Cornish pasty.

Touching down in Stockholm, I don’t expect anyone to meet me, though I’ve texted Bryan.

“He needs his rest; I’m the one who’s late. I’ve got this,” I tell myself.

I grab my bags, already wishing I’d packed lighter. I haul them up the long ramp to the front door and step inside, barely noticing the shift from outdoor frost to the lobby’s cozy warmth.

The place is stunning with three enormous Christmas trees lighting up the lobby.

Tinsel and tiny white lights sparkle everywhere, and I love how the decorators have kept it professional yet still warm.

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