“Later, City Boy.”
Then he’s gone, turning his back on me, and walking through the metal detectors. He grabs his carry-on, looks over his shoulder and gives me a two finger salute, before disappearing around the corner, out of sight.
I press a hand to my chest.
Still beating.
Still his.
It’slate,justaftermidnight, when Ivy grabs my arm, hauling me out of my seat.
“They landed!” she says in a breathy rush.
Phoebe’s practically bouncing on her toes, fingers pressed together in front of her lips. Her hair’s thrown up into a messy top-knot that teeters to the side with her movements.
They might be even more excited than me, seeing as it’s been two and a half months since they saw the guys.But only just,I think dryly, picturing the guyIhaven’t seen in three long weeks.
Not long, in the grand scheme of things. Not long compared to the others.
But in the grand scheme of what matters to me…
It’s been three weeks too long since I left my other half in the City of Angels. An unanticipated three extra weeks, seeing as they were only supposed to be out there for eight weeks. Two months, give or take.
But they needed more time to fine-tune the album. It sucked, but it was unavoidable.
And it could’ve been much longer.
Fortunately, after that first hiccup, it was mostly smooth-sailing. Not just recording the album, but managing a long-distance relationship.
Not that we spent more than a few weeks apart…
Still, if someone asked us months ago if we’d be able to make it even just anightaway from each other, let alone three weeks—our new record—without losing our fucking shit, it would’ve been a hell. Fucking. No.
It hasn’t always been easy, but we made it work. We had to. There was no other choice. No rational one, at least, and we’re far from the irrational guys we once were.
Mostly.
“There they are!” Phoebe all but squeals.
The Scranton airport is quiet—a stark contrast to LAX, or even Philly or Chicago—so her voice carries, momentarily drowning out the distant chatter and the soft rock music playing through the speakers.
This time, the final time, the guys sacrificed a direct flight in order to not have to make a long drive back to Shiloh after a day of traveling. They haven’t seen their beds in over two months now, and I know they’re impatient to just finally be home. Back with family. Back with all the supports they’ve built over the years to keep them from slipping off the edge.
They did it though. They made it on their own. Stuck together like glue and powered through until they reached the other side.
This side.
Our side.
Mason comes into view first, light blue eyes tired but lit up as he takes in Phoebe running toward him. Shawn’s just behind him, and if I’m not mistaken his dark eyes light up too as she wraps her brother in a hug, and reaches an arm over her shoulder, hand outstretched, fingers wiggling.
Much to my surprise, Shawn actually meets her offered hand. It’s just a quick squeeze of her fingers, but it’s something. I can’t see her face, but I can picture the huge, face-splitting grin as clear as if it were right in front of me.
Behind them, Waylon appears, dragging along a black suitcase, a black guitar case peeking out from over his shoulder. His mouth is twisted to the side as he watches his family reunite, before his gaze drifts beyond them to the girl standing next to me.
His gaze flickers to me as he hurriedly crosses the distance, meeting his cousin in the middle when she can no longer contain herself. They collide in a tangle of limbs as he scoops her up off the ground, swinging her around.
“Hey, Satan,” I hear him say quietly.