Mine to Steal (Mine to Love) by T.K. Rapp Read Free Book Online Page A

my words, but moves back in to take her seat while we wait for the remaining passengers to file on.
    As she sits down and buckles her seat bel t, she takes a deep breath and holds it. From the corner of my eye, I watch as she closes her eyes and mutters something to herself before exhaling a loud, exaggerated breath and repeating the process. Every other time, she grips the armrests and counts to three before opening her eyes. It’s a strange ritual, and I can’t tell if it’s a prayer or meditation, but I’m fascinated with the sequence. I don’t think she’s a good flyer.
    My head is still pounding from my hangover; clearly the aspirin is taking longer than I’d like to work. The flight attendants won’t bring water around until we’re up in the air, which of course makes me want water this second.
    The woman next to me continues her odd pattern until the flight attendant comes over the speaker to go over the usual safety spi el. I always tune this part out because I’ve heard it a million times and could probably recite it myself, if I needed to. However, the woman next to me is watching with wide eyes, absorbing every detail they offer.
    “There’s not going to be a test,” I whisper louder than I intend with a grin.
    “Excuse me?” she snaps, but keeps her eyes trained on the nearest attendant.
    Not the right thing to say.
    She seems far too serious, and I feel bad because I think I might have made her anxiety level go up exponentially. “I’m sorry. Bad habit. I was trying to make a joke.”
    Looking at me for a moment, she doesn’t say anything or acknowledge my apology. Her attention returns to the attendant at the front, all the while fidgeting with the tail of her seat belt, trying to take in everything that is instructed.
    “-Sit back, relax , and enjoy the rest of your flight,” the attendant concludes before the PA system shuts off with a crack of the speaker. The other passengers begin quiet conversations, read books, or close their eyes to get some sleep, but not this woman. She oozes more anxiety than I’ve ever felt from anyone when flying.
    “Are you okay?” I ask her, worried she’s about to have some sort of emotional fit, and I’m the nearest victim.
    “I’m fine,” she says. Her eyes are closed , and her head is tilted up toward the overhead lights as she starts her ritual once more. She reaches up and adjusts the air nozzle overhead to aim it at herself before commandeering mine as well. This woman is not okay.
    “Is this your first time flying?”
    “No,” she answers curtly, still avoiding eye contact.
    “Do you live here in Colorado, or is Chicago home?”
    “I live here. Can you please stop talking to me?” she says in a rush.
    “I’m sorry. I was trying to distract you.”
    She finally opens her eyes and turns to me. “It’s not working. Can you try something else?”
    I notice she’s wearing a wedding ring, a rather large ring, in fact. I offer my hand in greeting . “I’m Trey, nice to meet you.” She looks at me with a hint of suspicion before taking it.
    “Kris ,” she answers before slipping her small hand in mine.
    “How long have you been married?”
    Her face is beaming, and she turns the band with her thumb. I wonder if it’s a habit like her counting. “Five years last month.”
    “Five years? Congratulations. Any kids?”
    “I have a six month old. This is my first trip away from her,” she admits as her smile fades. “I never minded flying before, but somehow now, leaving her seems wrong. I mean, what if something happens to me and she’s left to grow up without a mother? What kind of mom does that make me?”
    “A mom?” I ask with a shrug. “I don’t have any kids, but my sister, Abby, is the same way. She hates to leave my nephew, and he’s three. I don’t know if it’s gotten any easier for her, but she makes herself do it ,” I conclude with a smile.
    I don’t get it. To me, you get on a plane, go where you need to go, do