Page 9

I make it to my car before opening the group chat. I should go home. I should sleep. That is apparently today’s mandatory quest, from more than one person.

Instead, I sit behind the steering wheel and type.

Me: I have encountered a problem.

Madison responds before I finish putting my seat belt on.

Madison: Define problem.

Chloe: Is it a hot problem?

Maya: If Chloe asks whether the problem is hot, the problem is definitely a man.

Lily: Details.

Emily: Do you need bail money?

Holly: Or emotional support?

I grin. There is a reason these women are my women, my tribe.

Me: Hot grumpy Air Force veteran air traffic control guy canceled my flight. The problem’s name is Christopher.

Chloe: How did an air traffic controller cancel your flight?

Me: Technically Rick canceled it.

Madison: Why?

I pause. How much should I let them know? Apparently my sleeping schedule confuses a lot of people, my friends included.

Me: Tiny scheduling issue.

Emily: Amber.

Me: I slept four and a half hours.

Silence. A pause that stretches longer than I would like.

Then the typing indicators appear almost simultaneously, six little bubbles springing to life like I’ve triggered an alarm system.

Maya: Girl.

Lily: No.

Chloe: Tyler would murder me.

Holly: Justin just looked over my shoulder and said, “Absolutely not.”

Madison: Ty says Christopher is correct.

Me: WAIT TY KNOWS HIM?

Madison: No, he just heard “four hours sleep plus airplane” and went full Daddy.

Emily: Which begs the relevant question.

I know exactly what’s coming.