Page 27 of Wandering Wild

I used to love airports.

I loved wondering where people were going, and why. Whether it was a holiday or a business trip or to visit a loved one—the sense of anticipation emanating from travelers always made me feel electric. And the deeper metaphor always spoke to me on a philosophical level, the concept of transition, of departing one place and leaving something behind in order to go forth and step into something new.

I used to love that feeling, that wondrous expectation, that tangible exhilaration.

But today I don’t feel anything as I wait in the executive lounge at the Sydney International Terminal, just as I haven’t felt anything since Charlie tore out of my arms in the garden on Friday night and ran from me, not looking back.

I don’t know how long I stood out in the cold after she left, praying she would return, while also knowing that if she did, I would have to be the one to leave her. Because I meant what I said—I won’t keep her from her dreams. Part of me wishes I could be selfish enough to do that, or even self less enough to turn down Titan and go with her on her adventures, but she’d never let me give up my role in a million years, and if I tried, I would lose her regardless.

Just as I’ve lost her now.

I have no memory of returning to my room that night, only that when I did, Summer and Maddox were waiting for me, and seeing my pale, tearstained face, they both ran to embrace me, looking almost as devastated as I felt. They haven’t left my side since then, not all through yesterday when we left Katoomba and headed back to Sydney, not when our plane was delayed and we had to spend another night in the city, and not when we rose at the ass crack of dawn today for our rescheduled Sunday morning flight straight through to LAX.

They haven’t said much, or if they have, I haven’t heard them. I feel like I’m walking through a cloud, part delayed exhaustion, but mostly I’m lost in my heartbreak over having to leave the girl I love behind.

Because I do love her.

I love Charlie Hart.

I don’t know when it happened—it might have been from the very first day we met when I asked if she was excited for our trip, and she replied with a sarcastic, Can’t wait . After years of people falling at my feet, it was refreshing to have someone do the opposite. Humbling, even. But more likely, it came on gradually during our time away together as I got to know her, inside and out. It terrifies me, how much I feel for her, just as it terrifies me that because of what I feel for her, I can’t be with her. If only our lives weren’t so different, if only we could?—

“Zander, are you listening?”

I blink out of my despondent thoughts to see Gabe standing in front of where I’m seated. Summer is curled up on my right, and Maddox on my left, all three of us having been staring out the large windows at the early-morning planes coming and going while we wait for our gate to open. I’m not sure how long we’ve been sitting here in silence. I’m not even sure when Summer took my hand in hers, or when Maddox replaced my cold cup of coffee. They’re worried about me, I can tell. And they’re heartbroken on my behalf, as only the best of friends are when sad things happen to those they care about.

“Zander?” Gabe calls my name again, and this time he waves his phone in my face. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

I shake my head, both in answer and to clear it. “Sorry, what?”

Gabe sighs, then repeats, “That was Val on the phone. Your shooting schedule has just been finalized, so she’s sent through your itinerary.”

As hard as I worked to get it, and as much as I’m sacrificing to keep it, Titan is the last thing I want to think about right now.

“Great,” I say, lacking enthusiasm. “I’ll read it when I get home.”

I turn to the window once more, aware of Maddox and Summer sharing a concerned look. But Gabe isn’t done.

“I think you’re going to want to open it now.”

A moment later, I hear a notification on my phone.

I don’t pick it up, not ready to return to reality.

Because as soon as I do, that means I’ll be leaving Charlie behind for good.

She’s probably sleeping now, like most sane people at this hour. She would have returned home with Ember and her stepdad yesterday, probably had a nice dinner with Jerry and then an early night knowing she has to be up in a few hours to supervise a children’s birthday party at her work today—something her boss called her about on Friday night, begging her to take the shift. We were all hanging out as a group in my suite at the time, and Charlie had groaned and said into her phone, “I swear, Sandy, if I survived the last four days only to be torn apart by a bunch of sugar-high eight-year-olds, I’ll be writing you a very stern letter from the afterlife.”

Remembering that now brings a smile to my lips, even if it makes the pain in my heart grow ever stronger.

“Zander!”

This time Gabe snaps his fingers together, frowning as he points to my phone.

That breaks through to me enough that I narrow my eyes and say, “We’re about to be stuck on a fifteen-hour flight, Gabe. It’s nothing that can’t wait.”

He makes a frustrated sound and rubs a hand over his cropped black hair, grumbling about how he needs a vacation. But then he exhales loudly and pulls up a chair, his expression softening. “I know you’re hurting, kid. And I know everything with Charlie didn’t turn out the way you wanted, but if you’d just?—”

I rise from my seat and walk away, unable to have this conversation. I can’t talk about this—about her . Not yet. It hurts too much.

But I also can’t escape it, because Maddox hurries after me, grabbing my arm and halting my retreat.

“Let me go,” I say, trying to pull away. But my best friend holds firm.

“No. It’s tough love time.”

My brow furrows. “It’s what?”

“You’re miserable.” Maddox jabs a finger toward me. “It’s been nearly two days and you’re not eating, not sleeping, barely speaking—how long does this have to go on before you realize you’re making a huge mistake?”

I cross my arms. “I know it’s a mistake. But there’s nothing I can do about it. She wants to travel, and I’m tied down with Titan.”

“For what, three months? Six months?” Maddox scoffs. “It’s one movie, not a life sentence.”

“If it’s successful—which it will be—then it’ll be another blockbuster franchise,” I remind him. “And even if it flops, there will be a different movie after it. Then another. And another. Plus, it’s not just the filming—it’s the publicity and the tours and the screaming fans and everything else that comes with it. This is my life , Maddox. So unless I want to give it up, which I don’t—and Charlie wouldn’t let me do that for her anyway—then this is my future. Indefinitely.”

“So you’re saying you’d be the first actor to ever get involved with someone outside the industry?” Maddox rolls his eyes. “Sure, I can see how mind-blowing that idea is.”

I clench my jaw at his sarcasm.

We’re drawing looks from the other early-morning lounge patrons now, so Maddox lowers his voice and moves closer to say, “I get where you’re coming from, Zan. Truly, I do. But what about her future? Is she planning to travel forever? What happens when she’s finished finding herself or whatever, and she’s ready to put down roots? Why can’t that be with you ?”

I swallow and look away, because that’s the argument I should have made to Charlie on Friday night when she said we couldn’t stay in contact. She was right that it would be painful, and I understand her desire for a clean break in an effort to ease some of that, but it also means cutting off any chance of a future when our paths might align better.

“Come on, Zan,” Maddox presses when I’m silent for too long. “Why didn’t you fight for her?”

It’s the disappointment in his tone that has me rasping out, “Because I was afraid she would say no.”

Maddox’s caramel eyes widen, before his expression falls with sorrow. “Oh, Zander.” He hauls me in for a tight embrace. “You’re such an idiot. A lovable idiot, but an idiot all the same.”

“He’s right, you know,” Summer says, and I pull away to see her standing beside us. I wonder how long she’s been there, and how much she heard, before realizing it was probably everything. “Charlie is crazy about you, Zan. Ember says she’s even more heartbroken than you are.”

I jerk at that. “You spoke with Ember?”

Summer makes a huffing sound. “Just because you didn’t get anyone’s contact details doesn’t mean I didn’t.” She glances at Maddox, a strange, almost sly look entering her eyes. “Or we , I should say. Right, Maddox?”

My best friend shuffles his feet, not looking at anyone, and I wonder what that’s about. But I don’t have a chance to think on it before Gabe steps up to us, frowning at me all over again.

“This is all well and good,” he says in a snippy tone, “but if you would only listen to me and check your phone, you’d see that the solution to your problem is painfully simple.”

“My problem?”

Gabe looks at me as if I’m mad, and says, with emphasis, “ Charlie .”

“What are you on about?” Maddox asks him.

Gabe finally loses his patience and snaps, “Just read the damn email, Zander.” When he sees my eyebrows shoot upward, he sucks in a calming breath and says, in a gentler tone, “Please, trust me. I promise you’ll understand in a moment.”

I have no idea why this means so much to him, especially now , of all times, but I pull my cell from my jeans pocket and bring up my emails. My inbox is a disaster zone after having been neglected for most of the last week, but I ignore the blaring notifications and tap on the most recent arrival, seeing the words FWD: CONFIDENTIAL—FOR YOUR EYES ONLY in the subject line. It’s redundant, but I don’t mention that to Gabe since he’s already on edge.

The airport Wi-Fi is so slow that I have to wait for the email to load, then for the attached document to download, but when it does, I’m so shocked that I need a full minute to process what I’m reading.

When it finally sinks in, I gasp out an incredulous, “Is this for real?”

Hearing the disbelief in my tone, Maddox and Summer peer over my shoulder and read the words for themselves. Maddox barks out a laugh and slaps me on the back, while Summer squeals and throws her hands in the air.

Gabe just smiles, before tapping on his phone, and a second later, I receive another notification.

It’s a new plane ticket.

For today.

Only, it’s not to Los Angeles.

Summer’s phone pings, as does Maddox’s, and I know Gabe has sent them both new tickets as well.

Then my agent steps forward and, in a rare display of affection, he pulls me into a hug, saying in my ear, “I’ll see you when you get home. Fly safe.”

I’m still reeling, so all I can do is squeeze him back and croak out, “Thank you.”

His arms tighten around me as he hears the depth of meaning in my words, since I know—I know —he had a hand in the email I just read, even if I don’t know how he did it. But then he releases me quickly again, straightening his suit jacket as he warns, “You’re leaving from a different terminal. I suggest you run.”

I don’t need to be told twice, and after one last grateful look, I take off in a mad dash across the airport with Maddox and Summer sprinting beside me.

Fear is screaming at me to stop. Doubt is begging me to turn around.

But I ignore them both, because something else is urging me onward, something much more powerful:

Hope .