Page 36 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Chapter Twelve

Jack

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THE AIRPORT ARRIVALS board flickers overhead, updating flight statuses in blinking green letters. Flight 227 - On Time. My knee won’t stop bouncing as I check my watch for the tenth time in two minutes. She lands in fifteen.

I adjust my baseball cap, pulling it down. My neck prickles with the weight of potential recognition. Three months ago, I could’ve stood here all day without a second glance. Now? Now there’s a damn Wikipedia page with my name on it.

My phone buzzes.

Liz: Studio at nine tomorrow. Don’t be late.

I shove it back in my pocket without replying. The argument still rings in my ears— “The company jet isn’t for some girl you like, Jack. That’s not how this works.”

Like Jinnie’s just “some girl.” Like she wasn’t the one who believed in me when I was playing for tips and free sodas.

Liz is overbearing. She seems to have this idea she runs my life. I chalk it up to the strain of working eighteen-hour days and never getting a chance to just sit back and enjoy the success. But I finally put my foot down.

I needed to see Jinnie. It had been too long. I knew she was pissed at me. When I finally managed to talk to her last week, she was very distant. I knew I screwed up. I asked her to come visit me and to my surprise, she actually agreed. I bought her a first-class ticket. It was my way of taking care of her. Now that I was making real money, I wanted to spoil her.

The overhead speaker crackles. “Flight 227 now arriving at Gate B12.”

My pulse kicks up. Business travelers stream past, rolling suitcases clicking against the tile. A family with screaming toddlers. A group of college kids. Then—

There she is.

Her eyes scan the crowd, and when they land on me, something in my chest cracks open. The oxygen is sucked out of the room. I ignore everyone as I move toward her. I don’t give a shit if anyone recognizes me. I only see her.

Then she’s running. She crashes into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and damn, she smells the same—vanilla and citrus.

“I missed you,” she mumbles into my shirt.

My throat tightens. “Not as much as I missed you.”

When she pulls back, her eyes are suspiciously shiny. I swipe my thumb under one, catching the moisture there. “Hey. None of that.”

She swats at my hand but doesn’t let go of my waist. “Shut up. I’m allowed.”

Her suitcase wheels squeak as I take the handle. “How was first class?”

“Terrifying,” she admits, falling into step beside me. “The flight attendant kept offering me champagne. I think she thought I was someone famous.”

I snort. “You are someone famous. You’re with me.”

Jinnie elbows me in the ribs, but she’s smiling. It’s the real one, the one that crinkles her nose and makes her eyes squint. The one I haven’t seen in months.

And then I feel it happening. I pull my hat down a little lower and grab her hand. “We need to go,” I say.

“What’s wrong?”

I start walking faster, feeling the wave of murmurs as I’m recognized. We make it outside and I practically drag her to the waiting car. We hop in and I barely get the door closed when a guy puts his phone up against the window and starts snapping photos.

“Oh yeah.” She laughs. “You’re famous.”

I groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”