At airport security, Jasmyn gathered her things from the gray bins on the conveyor belt. Shoes, sweater, handbag, belt, bracelet, bag of liquids, and the beach bag she was using as a catchall.
Sheesh. What a lot of fuss. Practically undress while standing next to a bunch of strangers who were also undressing. Wait. Get scanned. Wait. Carry everything to a bench. Put it back on or back into a bag or a pocket. Search for the boarding pass shoved into her purse. And what had she done with her ID?
At least she hadn’t been detained and wanded or had to stand by while a guard dug through her bag the way she saw happening to others.
At least everyone was nice about it all.
Nice. Something she was not feeling or exhibiting. She should be ashamed of herself.
She slipped on the outrageously priced sandals Piper had talked her into because they were, in all honesty, the most comfy things she’d ever had on her feet. She hugged the purse and beach bag to herself, and stared at the escalator. It moved people upward, but it somehow appeared insurmountable.
She really, truly did not want to go home.
There. She’d admitted it at last. After a night of tossing and turning—her first since that first night at the Casa—she was too exhausted to fight it any longer. She wanted to stay in California.
The questions of why, how long, and when would have to wait for answers. For now she would get on the plane, return to her studio apartment, go to work tomorrow, and then…Well, and then she would plan another vacation.
Danno would tell her to take it ASAP. He had sent her away in the first place to go find her smile. Well, she had found it in California. The trouble was, she’d lost it that morning somewhere between the Casa and the airport. It was not getting on board with her. It would not be going with her to the Flying Pig tomorrow. Leaving a strange place should not be this difficult, should it?
Sam had driven Jasmyn to the airport and basically repeated Inez’s Go get your things. “Maybe it’s time for a new start. What better place for a reinvention than in California?”
Sam had meant well, and Liv had meant well as they hugged goodbye in the alley behind the Casa. Choking back tears, she repeated three times that Cottage Eleven was Jasmyn’s home whenever she returned, which she hoped was two shakes of a lamb’s tail away.
Their words haunted Jasmyn now. What happened to Valley Oaks being home, the place she had always belonged?
She sighed. That one was easy. Stupid tornado. Stupid hurt feelings because she did what she had to do by selling the property. Stupid dead-end job. Stupid, ugly apartment.
Stupid memories that still defined her. She doesn’t have a dad. She’s Jerri’s daughter. You know Jerri, the slutty one. That grandpa of hers is a real piece of work. The grandma’s not much better. Do you believe she sold that land? It’ll put her boss out of business. That was really smart.
Jasmyn got on the escalator.
Upstairs, hordes of people milled around a gift shop and a Peet’s Coffee counter. They strode past her from every direction. They lined up at gates and filled row after row of seats as far as she could see.
She found her gate and an empty seat near it that faced a window. Pouting had always been at the bottom of her list of favorite pastimes, but she freely engaged in it now as she gazed at the runway and distant hills dotted with houses.
Quinn had been happy to hear she was coming home. Happy? More like ecstatic. She promised to pick Jasmyn up at the airport that evening, which meant she had to get off work early on a Saturday night, the busiest shift of the week. It meant a sacrifice of major tips. It meant—
She blinked and saw Keagan looking down at her. “Keagan?”
Mr. Kung Fu Dude slid onto the seat beside her. “You can’t leave.” His black leather jacket rustled as he smoothed the jeans against his thighs. He turned to her, a deep crease between his blue-green eyes. His usual intimidation factor was missing.
“What do you mean I can’t leave?”
“Liv had a heart attack.”
Jasmyn scurried after Keagan, who never slowed his pace, not even on escalators. They trotted down one now, an outdoor one that descended steeply into a parking lot.
Quinn would totally have a cow over this latest decision. Jasmyn was staying in San Diego because someone she barely knew had a heart attack? Because that all-but-total stranger told the weird kung fu guy, while they had waited for the paramedics, that she needed Jasmyn? Baloney.
No, not baloney. She owed Liv McAlister for all she had done for her. If the woman said she needed Jasmyn, then Jasmyn was there for her. Flight or no flight.
They reached the sidewalk at the bottom of the escalator and she jogged to catch up to him. “What did she mean, she needs me?”
“Beats me.” His sunglasses hid his eyes. Her beach bag was slung over his shoulder.
She stepped off a curb and walked smack-dab into Keagan’s outstretched arm. A car cruised past them, too fast for a parking lot. Without a word, they continued on their way.
The guy was just plain odd. Who was he anyway? He could have made up the whole entire story about Liv and was kidnapping Jasmyn because he was a serial killer. And how had he gotten through security?
“How did you get through security?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I am worrying about it.”
His sunglasses flashed in her direction. “It was an emergency. I talked to the right people. They let me through.”
The right people? Sure. From what she heard about TSA, the only right people would be in Washington, DC. Why would they believe his emergency story? And what about her checked baggage?
“What about my checked baggage?”
“It’s been X-rayed for bombs. It’s on a domestic flight. It’ll reach its destination. Maybe a friend can pick it up for you.”
Her friend would be too busy having a hissy fit.
Of course it wasn’t as if Jasmyn had had many things to pack. She could let it go to wherever unclaimed suitcases went. What was one more lost batch of clothing? She should be getting used to not owning anything by now. There were those neon yellow shoes, though. She really liked them.
Keagan stopped next to a motorcycle. Jasmyn remembered Liv telling her that he did not own a car.
It was a shiny, dark blue monster. He unlocked a storage compartment, pulled out two helmets, and stuck a white one in her hand.
She held it back out to him, her own hissy fit gathering steam. He’d totally invaded her space, all but yanked her off a plane by her ponytail, and now she was supposed to get on a Harley? “I can’t ride this thing.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t ride motorcycles.”
“Your dad’s rule?”
“My grandpa’s.”
He cocked his head, his lips a thin line. “What happened?”
Her throat closed up and her heart pounded. She whispered, “A friend died.”
“An accident?”
She nodded.
“Years ago? When you were a teenager?”
Again she nodded. They had been sixteen. He was Quinn’s boyfriend.
“It’s time to get over it.”
She shook her head. “I’ll find a cab.” Her voice squeaked.
“Jasmyn, take a deep breath.”
She took a deep breath.
“Another.” He slid his sunglasses onto his head and watched her with kind eyes as she breathed. “One more. Okay. Now give me your hand.”
His hand was calloused and gentle around hers. “Listen. My driving record is perfect. My bike is top of the line with all the safety features.”
“Right. It has airbags? I don’t think so. I’ve seen you guys out there on the freeway, cutting in and out between cars, riding the lane markers, racing faster than the craziest drivers.”
“Riding the markers is legal and safer than being in the way of traffic—Okay, okay. I hear you. I won’t do any of those things. I promise.”
A fizzy sensation went up her arm. It spread through her chest and down her other arm like a feathery tickle along the inside of her skin. A sense of calm enveloped her.
“Jasmyn, we’ll go to the hospital. It’s only twenty minutes away. Trust me. Your presence will make all the difference for Liv.”
“Why do you say that? We hardly know each other.”
“Call it a woman thing.” He shrugged off his jacket. “Here. Put this on. Your sweater won’t be warm enough. And the helmet too. Please.”
A few minutes later, swimming in his coat, her bag and purse stowed away, she sat astride the bike. A wave of sheer terror flowed through her. She wasn’t going home. She’d lost all her belongings once again. Dear, sweet Olivia might be dying or dead even. And she was going to ride a motorcycle.
Keagan turned the key and the blue monster roared to life. “Hold on!” he yelled.
Jasmyn hesitated. There wasn’t anything to hold on to except Mr. Kung Fu Dude, who reached back with both hands and pulled her arms around his waist.
It felt like a stone wall covered in a cotton T-shirt.
Inhibition fled. She clung for dear life and pressed her helmet-covered forehead between his shoulder blades.
God, I promise if we make it, I’ll be nicer to everyone and not complain about Quinn and I’ll go home as soon as I can…