“Deal,” I say instead, brushing my knuckles over her arm. “They’ll love you,” I add before I can stop it.
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll believe you.”
My chest squeezes. I smooth her hair back.
If I do this right, I won’t have to convince her with words.
She’ll convince herself.
The weekend comes fast.
By the time we pull up to the hangar, everyone’s in good spirits—except Mya, who’s doing that thing where she looksperfectly composed but her fingers won’t stop fidgeting with the strap of her bag.
She loves the idea of traveling. She doesnotlove being in the air.
I lean in. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She shoots me a look that saysdon’t make a big deal out of it.I don’t. I just take her bag from her and keep a hand at the small of her back as we walk out to the plane.
Griffin and Sylas arrive almost at the same time, and Sylas immediately breaks free, barreling straight for me.
Then, Henson and his girlfriend, Amira, walk our way.
“You must be Mya! I’m Amira. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Amira says with a warm smile.
Mya shakes her hand. “I hope it was good things.”
“Oh, absolutely!”
Brianna launches herself at Henson. “Uncle Hen!”
He scoops her up, spinning her until she squeals. “Hey, trouble. Ready for sand and too many adults?”
“Yup!” she says, giggling.
On the plane, Mya sits beside me in the backseat, curls half-up, looking like she’s fighting the impulse to screamI shouldn’t be here.
“Stop overthinking,” I murmur.
“I’m not.”
I huff. “You’re terrible at lying.”
“Hey! I’m not.”
Once the engines spin up and the plane starts taxiing, I feel Mya’s whole body tense up. I take her hand. “Same as always,” I say quietly. “Takeoff is the worst part. I’ve got you.”
She exhales through her nose, squeezing back. “I hate that I’m this person.”
“I don’t. Means you need me for something.”
That earns me a tiny smile.
I bring our joined hands to my thigh and cover them with my other one, caging hers there. When we lift off, Mya shuts her eyes and leans in, pretending to adjust her seat.