He jogs to the house, leaving me to stare down his private drive. She’s gone and I’ve no clue when I’ll see her again.
“Come on, Kai!” he calls from the doorway. With stiff movements I force myself to go. He hands me a chilled beer and sits in one of his video game chairs in front of the giant screen.
I play and try to relax, but I keep thinking about the prophecy. At what cost will the earth be rid of demons? At the cost of Anna’s life? I won’t let her die alone to make this happen. I’ll go down fighting with her. I’d die today for a chance to see them all sucked permanently into hell with me.
But I’d die with one regret. I’d die wishing I’d shown Anna how I truly felt. I’d spend eternity in hell wishing I’d had one proper moment with Anna where I wasn’t scheming to sleep with her, or pushing her away.
One night with no games between us.
In that moment, I’m filled with a sudden panicked sense of urgency.
My car crashes and burns on the screen and Blake laughs. I jump to my feet, startling him.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I have to go.” I know I must look deranged. That’s certainly how he’s looking at me, but I don’t care. I run to the kitchen, where I think I’ve left my keys, and he jumps up to follow.
“Where are you going? We have one night to chill! Don’t leave me hangin’.”
I find my keys with the silver skull and drumstick crossbones, and I nearly run into Blake.
“I have to stop her.”
He’s still looking at me like I’m a lunatic. “Who, Anna? For real? But . . . you’re always so careful, trying to stay away from her. What about her dad, man?”
“Fuck him.”
He chuckles, but shakes his head. “This is a bad idea,” he sings as I brush past him.
I spin on my heels and eye him as a sudden grin overtakes my face. “It’s the best idea I’ve ever had, mate.”
I turn and he grabs my arm, getting uncharacteristically serious. “Just tonight while they’re away, Kai. After tonight you can’t mess around like this.”
“I know,” I promise him. “Just tonight.”
I must look like a wild mess when I approach the old fellow at the ticket counter. I’ve run from the parking lot and it’s hot as balls out there.
“I need to get something to my friend,” I tell him as I catch my breath. “She’s on flight four twenty-eight to Atlanta. Can I see her? Just for a moment?”
“No, sir. I would suggest calling her if she has a cell phone.”
“She’s got it switched off. Can you page her?”
“I cannot. That flight is about to start boarding. I’m very sorry.”
But he’s not sorry. His aura is clearly annoyed. He’s already looking past me like he’s going to tell the next customer to come forward. I wave my hand. “Wait! I’ll buy a ticket.” I yank my wallet from my back pocket, and he jumps back like I’m pulling a gun when I whip out my credit card.
“Sir, they’re about to begin boarding,” he repeats. “You might not make it.”
“Well then, I suggest you run my card quickly. I’ll take my chances.”
He grits his teeth and types, swipes, and prints the boarding pass. I snatch it and take off. I’m so thankful we’re in Santa Barbara and not L.A. The security line isn’t too awful, though I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet the whole time, making the lot of people around me nervous.
When I’m through security I sprint, counting down the gates as I go. My vision spirals down the hall to Anna’s gate, but I can’t see her.
Come on, come on! I weave through the slow people. When I get a bit closer they announce the initial boarding call. As passengers begin to stand and move, I spot the top of her blond head and I let out an airy laugh.
“Anna!”
It takes a moment, and then her head whips around. Her eyes are red and swollen. My first instinct is to run to her, but she may not want to see me now. She might refuse me—push me away as I’ve so often done to her. But I have to know. I stop at the edge of her row, and it’s as if the people have made a path down the aisle, just for me, straight to Anna.
She seems to be in shock, sitting there at the other end, staring at me, and I seem to be stuck here at the edge of the aisle.
“What’s wrong?” she asks me with fear in her voice.
“I—” I peer around for whisperers. “Nothing.”
Her forehead scrunches. “How did you get through security?”
“I bought a ticket.” I hold it up. The people in the aisle ping their attention back and forth between us like it’s a rom-com tennis match.
“You . . . you’re going on this flight?” she asks.
Clearly this is out of character for me, as she’s quite confused. “No, but those buggers wouldn’t page you, and your phone is off.”
As it sinks into her mind that I’m here for her, she slowly stands and makes her way toward me. I’m so afraid she’ll tell me to leave. I have to get the words out before she boards.
“I . . . I just . . .” Oh, bloody hell, I’m really not good at this. I could talk dirty to her all night, but saying how I feel is altogether different—too exposing. Saying these words is the ultimate vulnerability. Anna must know this. It’s why she needs to hear the words from me so badly.