We arrive at the airport, and the driver hands us our bags. Though we’re always on the road, we still try to travel light. If there’s anything we need at a certain location, we just send someone out to buy it for us. A good hotel will make sure its highest paying guests have everything they need, no matter what.
As we walk toward the small terminal, a phone’s ringtone chimes out. It’s not mine, so I glance at the others. Cade whips his phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. Twin lines of concern appear between his brows and his tongue darts out and flicks across his lower lip. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer it, but then he takes several steps away from the rest of us and presses the phone to his ear.
He speaks in low tones, quiet enough to be heard but not understood, at least by me. My son seems troubled, but that’s not exactly unusual for him. My eldest son has always lived as though a black cloud is following him. He’s been this way ever since I’ve known him. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Sometimes, I wonder if he was like this before his mother died or if this is the effect of losing his most loved parent. Ofcourse, if I’d been in his life before his mother got sick, then maybe I’d remember. We were together long enough for Cade to be born, and for her to get pregnant with Darius, but I left shortly after. I never witnessed the birth of my youngest son. Maybe I should be able to remember Cade’s personality from when he was a baby and toddler, but the truth is that I have very few memories from back then. I was always high on something, wasted on whatever booze and drugs I could get my hands on. So, I have no idea if this is just my son’s personality or if it’s the cruelty of the world that has made him this way.
I recognize myself in him from when I was younger—more so than I do Darius, though I catch flashes occasionally. The rage Cade uses as his defense against the world is familiar. Mine came from having a father who, when I did something wrong, sent me out into the yard to pick which stick he was going to beat me with. One time, he took it too far, and I literally thought he was going to kill me.
I don’t know who Cade is talking to, but whatever it’s about, it’s serious. I recognize the tension in his shoulders, the way he reaches up with his other hand and rubs at the knots in his neck.
He glances over his shoulder and takes a few more steps away, putting even more distance between him and us. A ripple of worry goes through me for my eldest son.
What are you up to, Cade?
“Let’s go, Cade,” I call to him. “We need to get on this plane.”
He lifts a hand to acknowledge he’s heard me and then ends his call and rejoins us.
“Everything okay?” I ask him.
He scowls. “We getting on this plane or what?”
It hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t exactly answered me.
We go through what security checks are needed. Each of us only has carryon bags—though Darius has both a bag and hisviolin case—so it’s not like we need to put anything in the hold. A pretty flight attendant in her twenties rushes forward to help with the bags. She goes to Darius first, and he hands her his bag, but keeps hold of his violin. This doesn’t surprise me. He’s never far from his instrument and certainly wouldn’t trust it in the hands of a stranger.
One by one, we climb on board.
I watch Laney’s expression as she takes in the luxury of the plane—the individual, deep leather seats, with their separate tables with television screens that rise from inside them when needed. She’s never been on a plane before, and it occurs to me that if she ever gets a commercial flight and has to travel economy, she’s going to be deeply disappointed.
“Where should I sit?” she asks.
Darius always takes the seat closest to the door. It makes sense for him not to have to find his way up and down a plane aisle, though he is perfectly capable.
I nod to a seat across the aisle. “There is fine.”
She nods. The flight attendant takes her bag and puts it into the overhead locker. Laney slips into the seat by the window and lets out a sigh of pleasure.
I watch her, and, just like when I saw her for the first time at her trailer, I’m struck by her beauty. It’s like a physical blow, winding me. I see how she holds herself, like she’s created a brittle shell around her exterior that’s intended to protect her. There have been glimpses, though, where she’s forgotten about that tough exterior. I saw it when she heard Darius play for the first time and tears had slipped down her cheeks. I’d even seen a hint of the real her when she’d opened the hotel room door and I’d been standing there in my tux. They were just moments, tiny snippets, but I was sure there was a vulnerable, emotional girl somewhere beneath it.
Vulnerable. I had to remember that. Just because she looks like a grown woman doesn’t mean she is one, and I need to remember she’s also just lost her mom.
I have to protect her. Even if that means protecting her from my two sons.
Even if that means protecting her from myself.
Chapter Eight
Laney
THE PLANE TAKES OFFwith a rush of power and noise, followed by sudden weightlessness. I grip the armrests of my seat and squeeze my eyes shut until the aircraft finally levels out.
Reed has chosen to sit beside me, while both Cade and Darius have selected seats on their own aisles, both positioned by the windows. As soon as the seatbelt light goes out, they all unbuckle and settle into the flight. I have no idea how they can be so chill this high off the ground, but they don’t seem bothered at all. I force myself to breathe and try to emulate them.
Within minutes, the flight attendant is moving between us, presenting us with refreshments.
It’s still breakfast time, so while we’re offered champagne—which once more Reed turns down—we’re also served freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee, and canapes of smoked salmon and a lightly poached quail’s egg on something called blinis, which is basically just a tiny pancake. It’s delicious, though, whatever it’s called. I wonder how the men are getting on with such miniature food options. The three of them look like they could devour a whole pig between them. I can’t imagine they’re satisfied with the tiny offerings, but perhaps they ate before we left.