Tied Together (The Cade Siblings Duology #1)

15. Alex

CHAPTER 15

Alex

My least favorite thing about traveling? The security line.

You might be thinking, not all of the people? The check in line? The crying babies?

The answer would be no. I hate all of those things considerably less than I hate the security line. There is something about it that ratchets up my stress and it’s like I can’t relax until I have crossed that item off of the traveling to-do.

I’m standing just outside of the line, having already checked my bags, eyes peeled for a flash of chocolate brown hair. I’ve been here for about thirty minutes and it seems like the longer I watch the chaos of the line in front of me, the more antsy I become.

In an effort to distract myself, I pull out my phone and scroll on the local news site. I click on an article about turbulence, thinking it might come in handy later, and skim the information. I am so engrossed in the article that I don’t notice the two feet standing right in front of me until Alana clears her throat.

I glance up from my phone and into the bright blue eyes staring up at me and smile, and just the sight of her removes all of the stress I was feeling just moments ago.

“Hey, Lanie.”

She’s wearing white tennis shoes, black leggings that hug the curves of her legs perfectly and an oversized gray sweatshirt with the college letters “UCMH” on the front in blue and gold embroidery. Her hair is down and in loose waves that I want to sink my fingers into. She looks at me quizzically, probably wondering why I’m staring at her.

She’s so beautiful, it’s impossible not to.

“UCMH?” I ask, referencing her sweatshirt.

“It’s from a book,” she answers with a soft smile.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, taking note of the tension in her shoulders.

“I’m nervous,” she says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I feel better than I thought I would, but I’m still a little anxious. Just hoping I’m masking it somewhat.”

“No need to mask it. Admittedly, I’m nervous about the whole trip too. I guess I’m in good company.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her cheeks go pink and she looks down at her feet.

“There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Her eyes widen a little in shock before going back to normal and I realize I might have just been a tad too honest. Oh well, I’m not going to backtrack. I’m trying to get myself out of the friend zone and per the article I read last night, subtle flirty comments can communicate to your love interest that you want to be more than just friends.

We chat about logistics as we move through the security line and wait for our turn.

The closer we get, I notice Lana starts to take things out of her bag and pile them into the crook of her left arm. Her iPad, laptop, and Kindle all rest in between her arm and her chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask

“It stresses me out to have to get all of my stuff out of my backpack when I get to the X-Ray machine, so I try to do it back here. Then I can just place it in a bin and I’m not rushed.”

Huh. That does sound less stressful. I start pulling my laptop and iPad out of my backpack and balance it in my arm like she does.

She smiles at me and moves forward to a TSA officer to show her boarding pass and passport. I move to the one next to her to do the same.

We each go through security and make it to the other side without any issues. I walk up to her as she is reassembling her backpack and putting her shoes back on.

We make our way to the gate and just before we get there, we walk past a small store with every snack you could imagine. We veer off in that direction and split up, she goes towards the fridge of drinks and I head towards the snacks.

A few minutes later I’m still trying to decide on what to get when I notice her walking up to me holding a Diet Coke and a sparkling water.

The amount of satisfaction I feel from her knowing what I want should worry me, but at this point it’s par for the course when it comes to this woman.

“Well, well, well. How the turn tables.”

“Did you seriously just quote Michael Scott?”

“The one and only.”

“You must be watching the show.”

She shrugs and hands me my water before turning towards the wall of snacks and I decide this is the perfect time for a question, but before I can ask she reaches up and grabs a blue bag of Doritos for herself and a bag of Combos.

“Are those for me?” I ask, surprise clear in my voice I’m sure.

“They are,” she answers matter-of-factly and hands them over.

“How did you know I liked Combos?”

“You’ve gotten them a few times from the vending machine at work.”

“Maybe twice.” I try to meet her eyes, to tell her without words how touched I am by this simple gesture, but she just shrugs and turns to walk down the aisle to the candy.

I hesitate, but eventually follow her and shake off my reaction. It’s just Combos. Not that serious.

“Who even likes Combos? What a weird snack.”

“Weird? They’re hollowed out pretzels with cheese in the middle. That doesn’t sound like the perfect salty snack to you?”

She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, raising her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes as if to say ‘what do you think?’

I shake my head disapprovingly and go back to the question I had planned to ask earlier.

“Sweet or salty?”

Her eyes jump to mine and she smiles bigger than I’ve ever seen her smile. I love it.

I haven’t asked her any of these daily questions in person until now. Usually I text them in the evening after we’ve gone home or early in the morning before work. It’s clear by her visible reaction that she enjoys this game. Obviously it’s fun to get to know one another better, but she’s more delighted by it than I anticipated.

“Well, I’m not sure if that’s a fair question. Can my answer be both?”

“Only if you can explain why.”

She smirks at me and opens her drink, taking a sip.

“When I’m anxious, sometimes I like sour candy,” she answers. “Apparently there is something about the shock of the sour taste that can distract your brain. My therapist suggested it to help with panic attacks. Right after Brad, I was having them a lot and…” she trails off, and I can visibly see on her face the moment she starts to overthink whether she should continue going down this path.

“And did the sour candy help?” I ask softly, encouraging her to continue.

“It did,” she says with a shy smile. After a deep sigh, she pushes on. “Anyways, I tried it and it did help. Obviously it isn’t one hundred percent effective and doesn’t really remove all of the panic, but it does ease it a bit.”

“So, sweet then?”

“Sweet and sour during a panic attack,” she says with a wink. “But if I’m choosing a snack, I would choose something salty.” She holds up the blue bag of chips. “What about you?”

“My answer would be sweet.”

“Because…” she says, leading me to explain.

“When I lived at home, my mom would always bake these incredible cookies. They were pumpkin cream cheese and she would bake them all year, not just in the fall. She would roll the dough in cinnamon sugar before they went in the oven and it gave them this really nice crunch. Literal heaven in a cookie.”

I get lost in the memory of sunny afternoons in the kitchen with my mom, laughing as we listened to ‘80s music and she let me stir the batter. Alana’s voice brings me back to the present.

“I am formally requesting that you teach me how to make those cookies at some point. For now though, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

She takes my hand again and drags me over to the area where the books are. There are all kinds of books in front of us. Horror, fantasy, romance, comedy, autobiographies, thriller—you name it, this tiny airport store has it. I’m honestly impressed.

“Okay Lanie…what are we doing in front of the books?”

“We each get to pick one book for the other person to read on the trip,” she replies, eyes already scanning back and forth through the rows.

“I haven’t read a book in a long time. I used to love reading when I was a teenager.”

“Oh yeah? What was your drug of choice?”

“I was particularly interested in “The Hunger Games.” Still really like it.”

“That series is phenomenal.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” I start looking at the selection and have a thought. “I’m adding a rule.”

“Tell me your rule and I will decide if we are adding it.”

“Okay, bossy.” She rolls her eyes. “We each surprise the other and don’t reveal our book choices until we are on the plane.”

“Okay, I like it.”

“That was easy.”

I wander back over to the snacks to finally make a decision and give her time to choose her selection for me. After she lets me know that she has purchased it and it is safely tucked away in a bag, I move over to the books.

I have a secret weapon in this game. I look over my shoulder one more time to make sure she isn’t watching, then I pull out my phone and open the reading tracking and reviewing app I know Lana uses.

She has mentioned it to me before and I’ve seen her leaving reviews or marking her progress at the end of lunch when she’s had time to read. I found her account and started following it a few months ago. While poking around, I discovered that there is a spot where you can mark books you want to read, so I navigate to that section of her profile and start looking to see if any of the books on the app are on the shelves here.

I see a book about a single dad who plays baseball and grab it off the shelf. I quickly pay and find her looking at the neck pillows towards the front of the store. We make our way to the gate and take a seat. As I busy myself with getting settled and pulling my laptop out, I notice Alana making a call.

She is FaceTiming Cami and I’m staring at my emails, but not really reading them. It’s impossible to focus with her as close as she is. I can’t take my eyes off of her, and thankfully her attention being on Cami allows my stare to go unnoticed. The outfit she chose today is so casual that it has me picturing Saturday afternoons at home with a certain brunette woman curled up on my couch. I’m imagining her wavy tresses piled atop her head in the most beautiful messy bun that she throws her hair into when she’s annoyed with it after a long day. I would get dinner started and she’d light a few candles and turn on the perfect soundtrack for the occasion, because that’s something she’s weirdly good at.

I’m snapped out of my daydream when Alana waves bye to Cami through the phone and pulls out her Kindle. I go back to staring at the email I’ve had open for the last twenty minutes.

Before I know it, the gate agent speaks into the intercom to let us know we’re about to begin boarding. I start to gather my things and she packs her bag and stands, pushing her arms through the loops. I notice her reach into her bag and grab the sour watermelon candy she bought as we get closer to the gate. She pops a few in her mouth and chews, then lets out a deep breath.

A sense of pride blooms in my chest at the way she cares for herself. She was nervous about this trip, but she’s got this. I’m glad I’m here if she needs me, but she needs to prove to herself that she can do it.

They call group one and we step up, scanning our tickets and moving forward to walk down the tunnel that leads to the plane. As we get closer to the entrance, I notice her breathing deeply a few times. I reach over and squeeze her hand once before letting it go. She smiles at me and continues forward, looking her fear right in the face.

I remember this feeling of helplessness with my mom. When you care so much about someone and see them struggling through panic and anxiety, the need to quiet it for them is overwhelming. But I can’t quiet it for her, she can do that all on her own. I need to just be here to support her.

“You can do this,” I whisper in her ear. She nods up at me and the look of determination in her eyes makes me proud.

When we make it to the entrance of the plane, we turn toward the left to the first class cabin, instead of towards the right for business and economy seating. There are two kind looking flight attendants directing people to their seats.

Each of our seats are like little pods with a seat that lays back flat, a small screen and an area to keep all of our items. We’re seated next to each other, but there’s a divider in between us that lowers to just below waist height, so we can make it one big pod if we want.

Alana sits in her spot and I go around to the other aisle to find mine. We each get started putting our bags away and settling in for the long flight ahead. I press the button to lower the divider so I can see her, and she startles a little at the movement.

“That’s nifty,” she says, watching it’s slow descent.

“Now we can play cards or something.”

“Play cards? What are you, eighty?”

“People play cards,” I say and narrow my eyes at her.

“Whatever, Ashford.”

She’s still munching on those gummy candies, but I can tell she’s calmed a bit now that we’re settled and in our seats.

“Hey, before we take off do you want to exchange books?” I ask.

“Oh, yes. I completely forgot. Me first.” She pulls a thin book out of the bag and hands it to me. It looks to be a thriller about a therapist that went missing and after reading the back, I am actually very excited to dig in.

“This looks great.”

“I think you’ll like it. The twists and turns are so good. I can’t wait to see your face when you get to that part.”

I grab my book and hand it over to her, then pass her today’s chocolate square. She smiles at the chocolate, but as she looks at the book I chose her eyes widen in surprise and she looks up at me.

“How did you know I wanted this book?” she asks in wonder.

“I looked at your reading tracking app and picked the one with the highest rating in your want to read section.”

“You did not. That is one of the sweetest things anyone has ever done.”

For not the first time, I find myself irritated at her ex. The fact that she dated him for years and he still treated her like she had no real place in his life is infuriating. She deserves so much more and I’m determined to give it to her.

“I’m happy to do it, it’s quite the app. You’ve got some pretty interesting books on there Lanie.”

Her entire face turns pink and she glances away. I laugh. A little while later, the pilot tells the flight attendants to prepare for takeoff and I notice Alana shift in her seat a little.

The noises in the plane start to get louder, the vibration growing stronger as it picks up speed down the runway. She takes another breath and closes her eyes, then holds her hand out towards me.

“Don’t read into it Ashford,” she says, eyes still closed. “For whatever reason the anxiety isn’t so loud when I’m touching you.”

I say nothing, because what the hell am I supposed to say to that, and silently grab her hand. She squeezes, as if to say thank you, and pulls her headphones on with her opposite hand. I do the same and sit back. We take off and she breathes through it, then pulls her hand away. By the time we get up in the air, she’s relaxed.

She picks her book up, opens to the first page and starts reading.