Page 49 of Wreckage of My Life
We just landedin the very sunny Dallas, Texas. What are the odds of me being back in Texas all these weeks after my amazing time with Dylan?
“It all looks so bright here, doesn’t it?” Emily’s voice startles me from the seat next to mine as she’s leaning a bit over my shoulder to peek out the small window at my other side. I turn my head and nod in agreement, but don’t say anything else. My mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t be, and I worry that I’ll tell her something I am not ready to share with anyone just yet.
“Are you okay?” her concerned voice almost dislodges the lump I have stuck in the back if my throat.
“Yeah…” I don’t sound like I’m doing okay, even to my own ears.
“Do you think you’ll run into him?”
Emily dragged me out for a girls’ night out the weekend after I got home from my trip. I fessed up to her that I’d had the most amazing time with a local, but that it was over. I never told her about my conversations with Dylan after that, or how heartbroken I was when he pushed me away repeatedly.
“I highly doubt it,” I now try to chuckle, albeit nervously. “He, uh, he lives in Austin. I think it’s a few hours away from Dallas.”
“Oh, I think you’re right.” She’s watching me shrewdly, worrying her bottom lip as she’s mulling things over. It’s almost like she’s trying to hatch a plan in that head of hers.
“Stop it,” I push at her shoulder playfully, pointing with my chin toward the other passengers who are getting up from their seats, bags in hand. “Move it, slow poke.”
“Who you calling a slow poke?” she slaps a hand dramatically over her chest. “I’ll have you know that I was the star of my track team back in the day.”
“Back in the day being the key thing there.”
We continue our playful banter as we board off the plane, then head toward where the pickup area is.
“Oh, that’s us,” Emily points toward a large dude that’s holding a sign with her name on it. I almost do a double take because he makes me think of Dylan. Not exactly in the way he looks, but in the way he carries himself. The tattoos I see peeking from his shirt don’t hurt either. He’s wearing a suit, but you can tell that it’s not an attire he’s comfortable having on.
“I’m so glad we only got the carry-on,” Emily continues her chatter while grabbing me by the hand and forcing me to walk faster. I don’t think this girl knows how to walk at a normal pace.
“He’s not gonna go anywhere, Em,” I try to slow her down, but to no avail.
“Hi, I’m Emily Stewart,” she practically bounces with excitement when we stop in front of the driver her father hired for us.
“May I see some identification, please?” The dude’s voice comes across almost as a growl. He is not impressed with my friend’s perkiness.
The question seems to be throwing Emily completely off.
“Uh, yeah, of course.” She puts her carry-on bag down and starts rummaging through her purse, presumably to look for her wallet. “Here it is,” she finally has it out, and she shoves it in the stranger’s face. Or at least, she attempts to. He’s pretty tall, and she’s… well, not.
“This way, please.” The guy grabs Emily’s bag, then comes after mine, but I move it out of his way.
“Wait,” I put a hand up. “Shouldn’t we knowyourname? What if you’re here to kidnap us?”
There’s a fleeting start of a smirk in the corner of his mouth when I say that, but it’s so brief, it’s almost like I imagined it.
“Blake Sully,” his growl is more pronounced now, but I will not allow him to intimidate me.
“Em,” I turn toward my friend who’s currently watching me like I just sprouted a second head. “Did your dad give you the name of the person picking us up?”
“Uh, yeah. Hold on.” She starts scrolling on her phone at a fast pace, just as fast as the way she walks, while me and this dude are locked in a staring contest. His eyebrow goes up when he sees I’m not looking away, and mine goes up in response.
“Blake Sully,” Emily’s happy voice confirms his name from my side. “That’s our driver’s name.”
I continue staring at him though, like I can sense something’s afoot. In the end, I give up because I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to ask. He knows it too, the asshole, and gives me a barely there wink.
We all turn as one and march out of the airport building and toward the luxury SUV waiting for us at the curb. I almost jump out of my skin when the driver’s door pops open and this other massive guy makes an appearance, although this one is not as big as Blake Sully.
“Who are you?” I take a step back and watch him critically.
He gives me a smile full of teeth and bends at the waist, like I’m royalty, but in a mocking way, if that makes any sense.
