The Long Way Home (Corps Security #6)(53)

I take his hand and squeeze it.

“I’m here with you every step of the way,” I promise.

He gives me a quick kiss just when our section is called, and we make our way on the plane, anxious energy coming off us both now.

I say a little prayer when we take off that this won’t hurt him more than he’s already hurting. That his family welcomes the shock of him coming back into their lives.

One thing I know for sure, this is going to be a trip to remember.





One thing’s for sure about Georgia.

Georgia is hot.

Even this late in the year, the heat feels like a living beast burning its way down your throat only to steal the air straight from your lungs.

It feels like you turned the blow dryer directly to your face while trying to breathe normally.

This is no joke kind of sticky heat.

I’ve always heard stories about the humidity in the South, but this is my first time experiencing the Peach State, and I already can’t wait to run back to Boston. Shouldn’t it be cooler here this time of year? My goodness, how do people live in the South?

I glance at Zeke—what I’ve come to call him solely. He told me the other night that I was the only person who called him that, even before, making it special to him, too. I still call him Drew in public. Until he’s ready, that’s how it will be. I know I could call him Zeke always, but these baby steps will take us to when he’s ready to let that part of him go.

Now that he’s shown me who he really is, I never want to put him back in a box again.

Zachariah Cooper deserves to live.

He will always be a little of Drew, I suppose. That’s the person who he became for over twenty years. Drew is just as much a part of him as Zeke Cooper is. We haven’t talked about which of the two men will remain “him” back home in the future, but I have hopes that this trip will give him what he needs to be himself.

The closer we get to the baggage claim, I can feel him getting nervous. His hand slightly tightens around mine, not painful, just enough that I know he’s struggling to be back home. Knowing what’s to come and the pain that will be brought to the surface are daunting.

We just cleared the impossibly high climb up the escalators that feed up from the tram system below and up to the level where baggage claim is.

“Yoohooo! Over here, you big stud, you!”

My head jerks up at the voice screaming above the low hum of activity inside Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Even though this place is huge—I’m talking huge—and there are so many people around, I have no trouble finding the person who just yelled over the crowd.

Just off to the side of where we entered from the escalators—leading us from the transit system that moves passengers around the large airport—is a neat roped-off section filled with people watching those arriving. Each of them holds different expressions of expectations. Some with signs, iPads with names displayed, and (the cutest) little kids with smiles as big as the balloons they’re holding. I’m distracted briefly when I see one of the kids break away and run toward the people arriving, stopping when she gets scooped up with a smile by the older gentleman in front of us. I glance away from the happy reunion when I hear the voice again … then I see him.

The man who has to be Zeke’s Sway. No question, I know in my gut that it’s him.

He’s bouncing in place adorably, full of excitement that would rival any little kid that just reunited with their own loved ones. He’s got a pair of black slacks on, tight and molded to his thick thighs, but when I see what shoes he has on, I can’t help but giggle. Yes, Zeke described him well. Standing in a pair of stunning gold heels—that make me feel slightly self-conscious of the designer sneakers I decided to wear for our day of travel—he looks as if he was born to wear them. The gold flowy top that fits him to perfection has me making a mental note to ask him where he does his shopping.

Sway has class.

Class with a capital C.

Somehow seeing him in person, I feel a little of the stress and tension leave my body, and when I reach his face, I see his eyes trained right on me.

His smile huge, his chocolate skin absolutely flawless and radiating happiness under the bright lights above him. He reaches up, rubs the top of his bald head once before letting his hand fall. His eyes travel to where my hand is joined with Zeke’s, and his smile grows so big and so blinding that I swear it has to hurt his face.

I steal a glance at Zeke to see his face awash with so much emotion. I know he’s seen this man recently, but this moment is hard for him, and I’m so glad he has someone in his corner.

I squeeze his hand, and he looks down at me.

“Go,” I softly encourage.

His eyes flash brightly, and his hand jerks in mine.

People move around us … the two people just stopped in the middle of a busy crowd rushing about, and not one of them seems to notice us having this monumental moment.

“Go, baby,” I try again when he doesn’t move.

This time, when I see his eyes flash, I know he’s heard me. He bends down, presses the softest of kisses to my lips, and I lose hold of his hand when he starts walking.

I move to the side, getting out of the crowd’s way, and watch. I’m close enough that he could reach out and get me easily, but just enough distance to allow them to have their moment privately. When he reaches his friend, I watch them both struggle to compose themselves before they reach out at the same time. Arms around each other, they hug tightly. I lose the fight with my tears when I see Sway shed a few. Blinking them away, I notice for the first time the man standing next to Sway.