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“Yes.” Haven smiles, loving the name of her tour coming from another person’s lips.

I can’t lie; it does sound really fucking cool.

“Your aircraft is ready. You may leave your luggage in the lounge, and we’ll put it on the plane for you. If you’d like to take any snacks, feel free. If not, all of your requested food is waiting for you on the plane.”

One by one, we enter the plane. I’m at the back of the line, and right ahead of me, Taylor’s red hair skates down the back of her tank top. I want more than anything to say something to her, but I stop myself, knowing it’ll probably result in me feeling down for how I left things with her.

By the time everyone’s seated, the only seat left is one of the singular chairs at the front.

Too exhausted to care, I stow my backpack in the overhead bin and set my tote in the space in front of me. Rummaging through my bag for my headphones, I settle into the seat once I’ve gotten everything I need.

At least I have legroom.

The attendant goes through our safety protocols as we await the arrival of our pilot and prepare for takeoff.

A plate of bird food and a green juice later, we’re finally notified our pilot is walking toward the plane.

I can’t help but notice the influx of jitters that float through my stomach as we anticipate our departure.

The healed part of me doesn’t want to leave home. I’ve lived in Tennessee my whole life. I don’t want time without my friends, without my team. But the broken parts of me are thrilled about the escape.

I stare deeply out the window, seeing nothing but everything at once.

Busying herself out of pure boredom, Rika clears her throat, stepping to the front of the plane with a clipboard and her tight-as-fuck claw clip. I hope she doesn’t pay for Botox; the clip is enough.

“I’m going to take attendance,” she squeals like a damn third grade teacher.

I scoff, sinking farther into my seat, tuning her out until I hear my name.

Haven…here.

Sean…here.

Tori…here.

Shannon…here.

Taylor…here.

Morgan…here.

Madison…here.

Angel…here.

Titi…here.

Eden…here.

Just before she gets to me, the cabin of the plane runs hot. Reaching above, I spin the air dial, needing something to stop the sweat that’s formed at the base of my neck. Shit, it’s toasty in here. Just then, a large figure swags its way up the steps, a dark shadow following its presence.

“Sofia.”

I hear my name, but the sound doesn’t register. Not even a little. All I can focus on is the shadow of a pilot on the wall, right inside the door. A shadow I know. I watch intently, everything around me muting. The scuff of his shoes, the clunk of his backpack, and the thunder of his voice hits me deep within.

In all his grotesque glory, Jett Parker stops ahead of us all. Looking right at me.

“Sofia!” I hear again.