Page 28 of Kiss Me if You Can
Kailani isn’t usually this mothering with me, but I think she knows how big this is. I’m spending the next three months in another country, on my own for the first time in my life. Sure, Emily and Rhys will be there, but they’re not my family.
“Maybe we should go through your suitcase one more time,” Lani says, reaching for the nearest bag as we both sit on my bed.
“I’m going to be late for my flight,” I warn her, though my voice trembles. I haven’t lived more than a hallway away from my big sister since the day I was adopted, and I didn’t realize how much I would hate the thought of being so far from her. She’s always been there for me, but if I follow through with this Africa plan, I’ll be completely on my own.
Kailani must pick up on my anxiety because she wraps her arms around me in a fierce hug. She’s never been touchy-feely like this with me, but I’m not complaining. “Isla, you don’t have to go. If you’re not ready for something like this…”
When am I ever going to be ready for something like this? I got all the immunizations I needed, and Emily got me a killer deal on a flight, and everything is packed. But this fear isn’t going to go away whether I leave now or six months from now. There’s really only one thing that would make this easier. “I wish…” I’m almost too afraid to voice my thoughts out loud. “I wish Jake was going with me.”
Stiffening, Kailani pulls back and studies me. I told her everything that happened in Sun City, but I’m not sure she ever believed how deeply I feel about Jake. It’s been more than two weeks, and I haven’t heard a word from him. Makes sense, if he’s locked up in federal prison, but I asked Oliver to look up what happened to him.
Oliver is a computer guy, like Jake, but he said he couldn’t find a trace of Jake Moody. Not even in all those news stories that were floating around while I was in New Mexico. Any mention of him has disappeared.
It’s like Jake never existed.
Kailani takes my hand. “I know you liked him, Isla, but—”
“I think I loved him, Lani.”
She frowns. “You only knew him for a few hours.”
“You knew Cam less than that before you almost kissed him,” I argue.
“Kissing a guy doesn’t mean you love him.”
I know that. I’ve kissed enough men to know that. But this ache in my chest? The one that hasn’t gone away since opening my trunk at the restaurant and seeing my prosthesis waiting for me? Jake must have bought my leg when I went to the drugstore for hair gel, and seeing it nestled amongst my clothes hit me like a pound of bricks.
This feeling is more than a little crush.
“You ready to go?” Cam appears in the doorway, glancing between us as if he knows something heavy is in the air. He can probably feel it, though it could also be my tears that tipped him off. “Or are you going to stay here with us where it’s safe?”
That comment spurs me to life, pushing me off the bed and to my feet. My artificial leg sits heavy beneath me, like it has since putting it back on the first time, but I’m so glad I have it. So glad that Jake gave up so much to get it for me. I don’t know if that’s how the feds found him, but I’m sure the purchase didn’t help him. If nothing else, it cost him ten thousand dollars, and no money in the world can repay his kindness.
Grabbing my backpack and slipping it over my shoulders, I glare at Cam. “I’m going,” I tell him, leaving no room for argument.
He holds up his hands. “Okay, you’re going. We’d better hurry if you don’t want to miss your flight.”
I’m waiting for my connecting flight in the JFK airport, which will take me to Lagos and then to the Entebbe International Airport, when the message comes in.
I get messages from strangers all the time, but this one comes straight to my primary Instagram inbox even though it’s a person I don’t follow. Usually those go to my request box where they can sit until I’m brave enough to see what nonsense might be in the message. The sheer number of men who offer to be my sugar daddy is astounding. But this message…
j4752mm: Is this where you spend all your time?
I frown before glancing at my gate to make sure boarding hasn’t started yet. Usually, I delete this kind of message, but instinct makes me pause. I’m not sure why.
Another message comes in before I can think of some sort of response.
j4752mm: I’m just now realizing how creepy that message sounds. Sorry. You can blame it on me spending the last two and a half weeks in an FBI bunker with no one but Agent Fields to keep me company.
My heart picks up its pace. It can’t be…
Me: Jake?
j4752mm: Hi.
Me: You have an Instagram?
j4752mm: I do now. It felt safer than getting a phone, though I’m not sure I trust the security claims from Zuckerberg. I’m at the library right now, and I only have a few minutes before this person is logged out. At least the librarian can’t accuse me of doing anything illegal right now.
