Page 2 of Find Me Again (KRK Security #3)

Ryan Dawson hated airports for many reasons, as most people did, but the thing he considered the worst was the baggage carousel. Or, more specifically, the fact that he would go through the security check, the waiting, and the flight itself, with various shenanigans from the fellow travelers, only to come out on the other side and be forced to stand there and wait as the carousel spewed out the baggage in random order until it finally spewed out his.

Because of that, he usually traveled with a carry-on only, but this was the holiday season and he'd be staying until the New Year's, so he needed more room than usual. And so there he was—cranky, tired, and waiting for his suitcase to come out.

When he checked his phone, he found a text from his mom. His parents were already at the airport, so he messaged her back about his status.

Glancing at the small photo of her at the top of the message chain, he smiled. It had been way too long since he'd last visited. Pennsylvania wasn't far from DC, so he could easily squeeze in one more trip a year—or convince his parents to come to him. His mom loved DC and his dad loved the museums, so it shouldn't be that hard. Dragging them away from the grandkids was more challenging, but since his brother, George, was currently visiting his in-laws for a few weeks with his wife and kids, maybe their parents would learn they could survive the separation.

The sudden tightening of the crowd closer to the baggage carousel was as clear of a sign of the suitcases coming in as the characteristic hum of the belt moving. Ryan straightened but stayed in his place. With his height allowing him to see over some parts of the crowd, he would know when his suitcase appeared, especially since it was bright green and thus hard to miss.

His niece deserved thanks for throwing a tantrum until her parents gave in and picked that color for his present. Ryan had clearly not appreciated her genius enough at the time, and he should have. Little Beth was as smart as she was stubborn and he loved talking to her, so it was a shame he wouldn't have a chance to see her this time around.

He definitely needed to schedule another visit in a couple of months. Since his boss wasn't stingy with vacation days, Ryan might as well take advantage.

At last, he caught sight of his suitcase and moved through the thinning crowd to claim it. He could see a few people doing a double take of him handling the bright green monstrosity, but he ignored it and headed straight to the arrival hall.

Scanning the crowd, he quickly located his parents a little to the side of the exit. They both grinned, and his mom waved, as she always did. It used to embarrass him a bit whenever they would pick him up after a deployment or simply on leave, but now it just felt nice.

He grinned back. It was good to be home.

Soon enough, after being hugged to death by both his parents, Ryan had to relinquish his suitcase to his dad, so that his mom could link his arm with hers and pull him towards the exit, asking question after question about his flight, the weather in DC, and whether he was missing any assignment involving the president by taking holiday season off this year.

He explained to her numerous times that any private company—KRK Security included—wasn't usually covering events with the President of the United States in attendance, but since there had been a few in the past, his mom still asked every time.

Once they got into the car and left the airport behind, Ryan allowed himself to relax in the back seat, watching the road fly by. He usually wished for a nap after a flight, but it was unlikely to happen today. His maternal grandparents and aunt were visiting as well, which meant there was going to be a lot of people to catch up with right away.

Holding back a grimace, he closed his eyes.

Thankfully, he was going to stay at his brother's house during this trip, so he could at least plan for an early night.

* * *

Ryan snapped to attention as the car stopped, and he blinked twice until he got his bearings.

They were home.

Glancing up at the rearview mirror, he found his parents looking back at him—there was the amused smile on his mother's face and the raised eyebrow from his father.

Then he heard a child's shriek of laughter and saw his cousin's twin daughters run across the front lawn towards the house.

"A power nap was a good choice," his mom said, and he snorted.

It sure felt like it, even if he wished it had lasted a little longer.

After they'd gotten into the house, what felt like the whole extended family descended to greet him, and between all the hugs from the adults and a slobbery kiss on the cheek from his cousin Vicky's toddler son, Ryan lost the rest of the tension he'd carried from the trip and beyond.

The last few weeks at work had been grueling, dealing with a client who had dragged Ryan and his partner, James, to various meetings at weird hours of the night and who'd given them hell for trying to keep him safe. Because blocking an excited fan from jumping down on the guy from a few feet up could "alienate the fans and create the wrong picture" , apparently.

Thankfully, the assignment was over now, and Ryan could celebrate holidays with his family in peace. He was going to sleep in, read some books, help grandpa with his crossword puzzles and grandma with her peanut butter cookies, and do various other little things he did whenever he visited.

And after the New Year's, he'd go back to DC and his life there, rested and ready for another year.

Tonight, though, he got swept up in the conversation immediately after he returned from freshening up and took a seat with everyone in the living room. As he sat on the floor near the beautiful Christmas tree, he smiled at the crooked snowman he noticed hanging on the bottom left. He and George had had an entire set of these figurines, but most of them had broken or gotten lost over the years. Only this little snowman prevailed, and their mom had always put it up on the tree.

Then Ryan heard the name that always sent his heart into a spin, no matter what.

"—Hopkins, she said her son was staying until New Year's," Aunt Susan was telling his mother, who glanced at him just in time to catch his gaze.

Neil was in town.

He was in town, right now. A little more than a mile away.

Ryan turned to stare at the Christmas tree, but he couldn't really see anything anymore.

Damn it .

He'd put it all behind him a long time ago. Neil Hopkins had been a crucial, defining part of Ryan's life, but he was a memory now and had been for over a decade. The famous hockey player Neil Hopkins was somebody Ryan didn't know and only caught glimpses of on TV every once in a while. He'd sworn to never watch any of Neil's games, and he'd kept that promise, with one exception—the last game of Neil's first Stanley Cup finals, which brought his team a victory and a title. Ryan hadn't moved from the couch for that entire game, sat through the televised celebration, and then finished his beer, went to bed, and woke up to go to work the next day as if nothing had happened.

And now Neil was in town, threatening the well-crafted constructs Ryan had built.

"His injury is healing up, which is great, because, let me tell you, that guy who's the forward now is nowhere near as good," Aunt Susan went on, and a part of Ryan wanted to stay and listen, but the other, bigger part needed a breather.

He got up and excused himself, purposefully avoiding his mother's gaze. She'd never asked and he'd never told, not even after he'd come out, so it was hard to say how much she knew—or thought she knew.

Either way, he wasn't up to talking about this.

The kitchen offered him the respite he needed, since it was empty and filled with little things he could do, like unloading the dishwasher, clearing the countertops, and preparing tea for his grandpa. Still, as he did all those tasks, the thought of Neil being so close after so many years wouldn't leave his head.

As far as Ryan knew, they'd never been in town at the same time after high school. At first, his leave hadn't lined up with Christmas, then there were his two tours, and by the time he'd gotten a chance to spend the holiday break with his family, Neil had been the one who couldn't make it back because of the NHL schedule.

Of course, it was also possible that Ryan had gotten lucky in the past and simply hadn't known about Neil being here at the same time, but with how gossipy this town was, it seemed unlikely. It took, what, an hour for him to find out today?

Hearing the steps down the hall, Ryan straightened. For a second he thought it was his mom coming to check up on him, but the steps were different, slower.

"I hope you're not trying to serve me the tea once it's cold," his grandpa said right as he appeared in the door.

"No, sir." Ryan gestured towards the steaming mug. "I only just poured the hot water in, so it should be perfect for you."

"Har, har. Comedians don't wear suits and carry guns, you know."

"Maybe they should," Ryan said as he watched his grandpa step closer. "Besides, no suit or gun on me now."

"Good." His grandpa patted him on the chest. "You're a good boy, Ryan."

He raised his eyebrows, not knowing what to say. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm simply stating a fact. You've done well for yourself, and you're an honest, hard-working person. You've made it."

Maybe it was because of the news about Neil or because of the long day of travel, but the words hit Ryan in a way he didn't expect.

"If I have, it's because you all raised me well," he finally said, but his grandpa shook his head and patted him on the chest again before turning towards the door with his mug in hand.

"That was a start. The rest is all you."

Ryan stared after him, leaning heavily against the counter. He'd never had ambitions of becoming a star—of hockey, politics, or anything else. All he'd wanted was to do a good job of whatever he decided to pursue and to lead a happy life like his parents. That dream had shifted and evolved over the years, and he'd found himself far more successful in that first part than the second, but the core of it hadn't changed and he assumed it never would, at this point.

And even though Ryan was aware that "making it" in the popular sense didn't really mean anything in itself, it was still good to hear his grandpa say those words about him simply living his life.

It might be too little to some, but not to him.

Not to him.