Part of the trip included visiting some clients. Fitz didn’t believe I’d go through with it. He confessed that part of him expected me to quit the trip, and the other believed that I’d quit the firm. Without knowing, I proved him wrong. I finished my self-imposed exile and traveled to the nearest hotel where I showered, bought business clothes, and started working. Finding that tranquility and visiting new places through different eyes was great. I worried that I’d change my life drastically after the trip was done and once my brothers saw me back at work. I want to make some changes in my life and the world, and I can make that happen with what I know how to do best. Practicing law.
“I packed a bag for you. It’s on the other plane.” Jensen grabs my carry on along with the computer bag I have with me. “Did you check your bags?”
“I had the hotel ship everything home,” I indicate, pull out my phone and forward him the information.
“Time to go,” Scott says at the same time as my phone buzzes.
My brother tilts his head toward the left as he hugs Jensen and gives him some last instructions. Jensen and I hug for the last time, and I thank him for coming to greet me before my next trip. I follow behind Scott as we fight the wide river of people flowing up and down the aisles.
HARRISON: Ready fuckers? The crowd is getting anxious.
SCOTT: We are on our way.
“Are you sure you want to join us?” Scott asks before we cross the threshold.
“I wouldn’t miss this trip,” I respond instantly. No one can keep me away from going.
“It’s about fucking time,” Harrison calls out from the door of the private jet, running down the stairs. Once he reaches me, he hugs me and lifts me. “I hate to say that I missed you, kid. You leave like that again, and I swear I’m gluing myself to you.”
“Aw, you missed him.” Fitz stands beside Scott, smirking. “You stupid kid. A retreat is okay, but leaving for a fucking year was irresponsible.”
“I left in December.”
“Feels like for-fucking-ever,” Fitz protests, hugging me. “Are you sure you want to join this crazy mission?”
I give him a sharp nod, heading to the plane. This was different from what I’ve flown in the past months. There’re no rows of seats, in their place are elegant, dark leather couches, a screen, and a long quiet hallway leading to a bedroom.
“This is huge,” I state, whistling. “Are we going to the moon?”
“It’s a ten-hour flight. We are eight people. I think it’s too small for us, but we have to make it work.” Harrison laughs and walks to the cabin.
That’s when I hear it.
That laugh, her soothing, creaky, dulcet tone. That sound I missed and can listen to again and again. She could sing along to a musical, tell me about her day, or just recite the alphabet. It didn’t matter—she hypnotized me. I follow the chattering, feminine voices, down the hallway to into the bedroom, and spot her. Willow stands next to Hazel who is kneeling in search of something.
I study her before greeting them. Willow has an understated beauty. She has changed, though. Her hair is done into flowing ebony curls instead of the smooth, flat, long hair. Her body is fuller. Until now, I hadn’t noticed how skinny and frail she had been. When she turns to look at me, my legs become weak. Her piercing eyes shine, her lips stretch into a smile keeping me still. In a matter of seconds, she holds my beating heart with just one gaze.
“Hi,” I greet her, keeping the distance between us.
“What did I say?” Willow directs her attention to Hazel. “He’ll sense it if I lose those earrings. Look, he sent an image of himself to scare the crap out of us.”
Hazel turns around, sitting on the floor and hugging her knees. “Oh look, the man who abandoned us. To what do we owe your presence, kind gentleman?”
“Brat,” I refute. “What earrings did you lose?”
“The flower pressed ones you sent from the Czech Republic,” Hazel responds. “I mean; how can you notice? You sent so many presents on a daily basis I bet you have no idea what she should have, am I right?”
She’s wrong—I know what I sent and why I sent it. Those are part of a set I sent along with an oil painting from a local artist. Each thing I’ve bought, packed and mailed daily has a specific message. That one said, even from afar I feel your presence next to me. Did she get it? I’m not sure. Sounds corny now that I repeat it inside of my head.
Hazel’s eyes widen, and she tackles the floor. “Found it, I found it.” Standing up and fixing her long skirt, she gives the earring to Willow, who smiles at her. Walking toward me, Hazel hugs me. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Happy to see you, too, little Hazel.”
My gaze never wavers from Willow, who continues to watch me. Her body moves slightly with every breath she takes.
“Is it okay if I join you?” Willow mentioned the visit to her parents. Fitz alerted me about the dates. Harrison who made the trip possible, helped me schedule my return accordingly. At first, I wanted to surprise them in Brazil. Later, I decided to arrive in New York, and do the right thing. Let her decide if she’d want me with her. “I’d love to be with you ladies while you visit your parents.”
She covers her mouth briefly, not moving her sight from me. Seconds pass, I feel my brothers stand behind me, but I don’t lose the connection between us. After several beats, her sculpted lips part.
“Say something, Wills,” Hazel utters.
“This is a family matter,” I hug Hazel, not leaving Willow’s eyes. Hazel has always been a sister to us, but over the past year my brothers have included Willow, too. I, on the other hand, don’t see Willow as a sister—no fucking way. “But if you guys prefer, I’ll stay.”
“I’d like that,” Willow finally speaks, smiling at me. “That you’re coming with us. Thank you.”
Harrison claps. “Well, I’m glad we are set because we have to sit down, buckle up, and jet out of here, now.”
“Wait, I need a selfie,” Hazel declares, pulling her phone and handing it to Fitz as everyone gathers around me.
“Smile, everyone.”
Hazel takes her phone back. “#travelingfun, #familystickstogether, #sisterstraveling. Two more clicks and voila. We continue our journey.”
At this moment, I regret having been gone for so long. Though, the feeling disappears when I recall the progress I’ve made.
“A few absent days are worth the promise of a better life,” my teacher had said several times when I complained about the separation from my family while in Tibet.
We all go back and, take our seats. Willow stays close to Hazel, but I feel her eyes all over me.
What is she thinking?
Probably, not what you are thinking.
Can you blame me?
I might know how to handle my emotions, but after more than a year of celibacy, it’s hard to contain my erection. Fourteen fucking months with only the memories of her legs wrapped around my waist as I slide deep inside her tight heat. I rub my forehead, praying not to come in my pants like a horny, inexperienced teenager.
This is going to be a long trip.
A BRAND NEW EMOTION
Slowly, I’m allowing myself to feel and experience new and old emotions. But I’m still afraid to feel
~ Willow B
Willow
I FELT HIS powerful stare running down my body. I drew out the longing I didn’t know I had inside me. He stood there, watching me. Like an idiot, I remained silent. The poor joke I made was a waste of words and oxygen. Now I sit almost across from him, staring at him as if he’s the precious, shiny object I want to touch. Why is he here? He is everything I hadn’t expected. Hunter looks like nothing I anticipated. I have seen some pictures of him in our cloud. His light brown hair was messy, the waves curling down his neck. Today, he wears his regular short hair with some stubble, and a pair of jeans with a dark T-shirt. And those sexy, vintage, black-rimmed glasses. The ones he only wears before bed. There’s nothing sexier than him—w
earing only a pair of boxers and the glasses.
Oxygen, someone help me, I can’t breathe. The stagnant air inside the plane is choking me. My heart pounds furiously. I knew he was coming back, but he never set a date. I wasn’t prepared for this moment. I’ve yet to explain to him that he’s the purest emotion I’ve had and that I need to learn how to handle it before I lose myself again. Before I lose him.
Do I want him to come along? Can I handle his presence?
I knew I should’ve brought my old notes on this trip. I can’t remember how to handle my feelings. I can’t remember my name. Can we delay the trip for a day or two? Would Harrison understand the urgency? Debatable. Requesting we postpone the trip without an explanation won’t fly with him.
Defining my feelings for Hunter has turned out to be a difficult exercise. I’ve promised myself to revisit the subject once I’d known he’d fly back home. Our story sounds simple, but in actuality, it’s too complicated. We’ve met, flirted, fell in love with the idea of a relationship, and separated. That’s the logical description of the events I’ve come up with during one of my therapy session. I should be mad at him for bailing on me when I needed him. But, being upset about it doesn’t make sense either. He stayed with me until I was safe, and leaving a relationship that had no future was smart.
For a long time, I’ve insisted that we didn’t fall in love. We did. We fell in love with the part of us we felt safe enough to share. We are so similar we could see between the cracks of our masks. That’s the part we’ve loved the most and neither one could handle. We could’ve been everything. The biggest affair the world could’ve seen, and the worst tragedy. The cosmic attraction between us remains. We’ve magnetized one another. He was on the other side of the planet, and I still felt the pull toward him. His texts have become my constant. I’ve enjoyed our light conversations as much as I’ve cherished the times when he’s trusted me with his struggles or listened to mine. Typing a few words or numerous paragraphs to his phone has become a habit. Someone on the other side of that phone has been listening to what I had to say. He cares.
But does he only care or does he still feel something? And what if he has moved on, and he’s dating some international beauty? Hunter has never gone without dating for long periods. Patting my skirt, I order myself to stop contemplating and torturing myself and move my eyes somewhere else. My sight falls onto my lap where my hands rest. The burgundy fishtail bracelet with my name is the first thing I spot. He sent it from Costa Rica. How can I not think about him and our situation? Every little trinket I wear is a present from him. His presence is making my heart beat fast. That woodsy scent of his is so close that my mind remembers the feel of his hands on my body, and my core clenches at the sight of him. Immediately, I remind myself that we are over. Friends.
Friends.
Friends.
Friends.
I move my gaze back to him, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can feel my heart starting to orbit around his—again. Why did I say yes when he asked if he could join? I’m not ready to be around him. I want him to be here with us, for us. Facing my parents scares me. I’ve been doing great; I’d hate to have a huge setback during the trip. Afraid of the confrontation, I’ve agreed with Hazel’s suggestion to bring Fitz along. Harrison heard about the trip and warned us about the area where my parents are settled right now.
“You have two options,” he said. “We go together, or we fly them to a safe place.”
According to his intel, the area of Brazil we are heading to isn’t safe. Harrison would know, though, I have yet to understand what he does exactly. Is he a security guard, a private rent-a-cop, or a mercenary? He was in the Army for years.
“He was a Delta Force,” Hazel whispered one day. She was quiet, scanning my room. By the way she behaved, I feared we would be ambushed by the secret service or a SWAT team after her confession. “He served as a Ranger and retired to do what he knew in a private company.”
Scott joined us because this became a family affair. Surprisingly, after the break up, Hunter’s brothers became my friends. All of them are aware of my relationship with my parents, too. When Scott asked if he could join us on the trip, Hazel and I said yes immediately. I don’t intend to have a conversation with my parents in front of them. But I like knowing they’ll be around for support if things go wrong.
I sigh, thinking about my parents. How will I react at the sight of them? This is the first time we are the ones flying to see them. For me, it’s been at least two years since the last time I saw them. After words are exchanged, it’ll be nice to have the Everhart brothers beside me. I’m not sure if Hazel and I can hold each other while we both are dealing with our own insecurities.
Hazel talks to our parents more often than I do. She struggles with the void they left.
“I hate that I’m an adult, and I still want them to pick us. At least once, I want them to say, Willow and Hazel, you come first,” she confessed one night while we discussed what we were pursuing on this trip.
Hazel tries hard to get validation from them. However, she believes that her issue of seeking validation from every person she meets is over and done. The crazy woman wants to please our parents so much that she is going to suggest they call collect to her cell phone. Not me. Up until a few months ago, I could only pay for my basic data and unlimited call package. Maybe we can email each other. My goal for this trip is to tell them how I feel. I want to explain that their abandonment, and the absence of a routine, rippled my brain, leaving the emotional side of my mind exposed and frail. As I discussed with my therapist, and later with Hazel, I don’t have any expectations of them. Not for them to believe a word of what happened to me, nor to patch the bridge they broke with their permanent absence.
The plane takes off, and I keep my mind busy . . . or at least pretend I’m not aware of Hunter. It’s impossible. I can feel the caress of his eyes, hear his low voice, while updating Fitz about the last client he visited before coming back home and the law firm they want to merge with in London, along with the one in Tokyo.
“I don’t mind traveling twice a year,” he continues.
As he says that, I lift my chin. Not only me, but everyone else stares at Hunter.
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, smiling. “There’s nothing wrong with what I said. You’re all looking at me like I’m a stranger.”
“Surprised you’re willing to travel,” Fitz adds.
“It’s a different side of you,” I dare to say, looking into his eyes. Seeing the complete calm in them, the same he has when he’s in his room—his fortress. The safe haven I have enjoyed, but disappeared once we left his home.
“Different bad?” His eyes remain on me.
“Good different.”
When the pilot announces we are free to roam around the cabin, Hunter stands up. His eyes don’t leave mine. I stare at him wanting him to take me along but hoping I can breathe when he leaves and beg him not to go.
Why am I reacting like this? Feeling vulnerable around him. Maybe it’s because no matter how much I think I have everything under control, I’ll always be in this shaky world of insecurities. Everything is a swirling typhoon of anger, passion, sadness, or happiness. For the rest of my life, I have to stop for a second or two to get ahold of my heart, my mind, and sift through the feelings until I find my balance.
“Fitz, we have the video conference in twenty minutes. After that, I’m officially on vacation.” Hunter’s voice has an urgency to it.
“You’ve been on vacation for a long time,” Fitz jokes, punching him lightly on his shoulder, and saunters toward the hallway.
Hunter stops right in front of me, bends lowering his head close me. His breath caressing my cheek. His lips almost touching my ear. “I want us to talk, but when you’re ready.” He kisses me lightly on my neck. “I missed you.”
My entire body melts with the mixture of his words and that low-bedroom voice.
I missed you, too.
<
br /> ARE WE THERE YET?
Enjoy the journey as much as the destination.
~ Anonymous
Willow
HARRISON WARNED US, but I didn’t want to believe it. This was a long trip. We arrived almost twenty-four hours after leaving New York. It took us two planes, three stops, a few hours of sleep in a hotel in Sao Paolo. Then, four hours on the road and zero sleep. We arrived at Olho d’Água do Casado at noon local time. The town is a maze. Crooked roads and not many street lights. The buildings are a jumble of different styles. The architecture has no symmetry. The streets are either dirt roads or paved roads with more craters than the moon. A gust of dry wind breezes through the ancient houses. Some have a few shattered windows; other have rotten boards. It has the feel of a ghost town. The children playing soccer in the streets are the life support that keeps the town standing.
As we approach a one-story, teal house, Harrison gets his arm outside the window and signals the Jeep that’s following behind us. He finally changes the gear and shuts the engine off.
“This is it,” Harrison says opening the door. “Anderson, along with Tiago our security details. They rented this house. It’s a three-bedroom house with a kitchenette. Be aware there’s no indoor plumbing.”
The driver of the other car walks to meet Harrison, and they begin to unload our belongings from the roofs where they had secured them. Everything Harrison requested we bring was shoved into backpacks or tied next to each other. We were here to camp.
“Princesses,” Harrison says sarcastically, helping us out of the coverless Wrangler. “We are not in New York anymore.”
“You seriously think we have never been outside of New York, don’t you, Everhart?” Hazel sneers at him. “I’m from Santa Cruz. We drove to similar towns that are close to Tijuana all the time.”
“What do you mean you drove to Tijuana?” I snap at her, shaking my head. “How many times did I tell you not to go there? You were underage.”
“That was a long time ago.” Turning to Harrison, she points her finger at him. “That was your last shitty comment about being a rich girl. I’m not.”
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