Page 13 of Take Two

“You make it sound like I stopped moving for an hour.”

I keep my voice low as we weave through the crowd, careful not to draw attention to either of us. This particular airport is busy enough that the risk is real, and I’ve learned over the years that the moments you decide to stop paying attention are exactly the moments someone decides to take a photograph.

“You stopped moving in the middle of a crowded airport,” Cameron replies, lowering his voice to match mine without breaking stride.

“That’s dramatic.”

“Cyaire.” He gives me a look over the top of his sunglasses, slow and deliberate, before reaching for my carry-on with his free hand. “You’re lucky nobody recognized you.”

I gesture toward the hoodie pulled over my head, the dark glasses covering half my face, and the deliberately forgettable combination of jeans and a T-shirt that has served me reliably well in situations like this for years. The anonymity costume. Unglamorous, functional, and considerably more effective than most people would expect.

“That’s what you’re here for.” I gesture broadly at the large, capable, intimidating man standing in front of me with a raised brow.

Cameron shakes his head and steers us toward the exit.

“No. I’m here because you have the attention span of a golden retriever.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. It’s the involuntary kind, which is the only kind Cameron ever manages to produce. “That’s insulting.”

Cameron glances back over his shoulder as the automatic doors slide open ahead of us, warm Seattle air pressing in from outside.

“It’s also accurate.”

The black SUV waiting at the curb comes into view at the exact moment my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. As I pull it free, the driver jumps out and opens the door for me. Cameron moves to the trunk and loads our luggage into the back with the practiced efficiency of a man who has done this in more cities than either of us could name without a spreadsheet.

The name on the screen immediately makes me smile.

Julian.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter as I accept the call.

“That’s rude. I would consider myself an angel.” My brother’s voice comes through with a warmth that spreads through my chest, immediate and familiar. “You, on the other hand, are entirely debatable.”

“My bad, Jules,” I say as I slide into the backseat, our driver closing the door behind me with a quiet click. “I was trying to get into the car before Cameron shoved me in face first.”

“I heard that,” Cameron says, settling into the front passenger seat and closing the door.

Julian’s laughter crackles through the speakers, bright and unrestrained. “Why exactly would Cameron be shoving you anywhere?”

Before I can answer and take him off speaker, Cameron twists around in his seat and leans toward the phone with enthusiasm, like he’s been waiting for exactly this opportunity.

“Tell your brother that stopping in the middle of one of the busiest airports in North America to stare at a hockey banner is a great way to get recognized.”

I sink lower into my seat, shooting a look at the man I pay handsomely to be on my side, who is making absolutely no effort whatsoever to be on my side.

“I wasn’t staring.” I sigh, wiping my hand down my face.

“You stopped walking,” Cameron says with a knowing smile, turning to face front as our driver pulls smoothly away from the curb and merges into the airport traffic.

“I paused.” I huff, with an air of wounded dignity that is approximately eighty percent performative, and apparently enough to make even our driver laugh softly from the front seat. At least my ability to entertain a room remains intact. A divo I am not. I refuse to become one on principle.

“Cyaire,” Cameron says, not sparing me so much as a glance. “You were standing there long enough for three separate families to walk around you.”

Julian laughs so hard and so suddenly that I wince at the volume. The sound fills the back of the SUV, slightly distorted through the speakers, and somehow still exactly the same as it was when we were kids. Then he stops laughing, and I can hear the pause before the next words arrive, which means I’m about to get an earful. I know this man. I have known this man my entire life.

“You did what?” he asks, the teasing entirely stripped from his voice.

“Oh, here we go.” I announce out loud, for the benefit of Cameron, who of course laughs.