Not Over You

Chapter One 

“Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Boston’s Logan Airport. On behalf of your handsome pilots and the charming and witty flight crew, I’d like to thank you folks for flying with us today. The next time you have the urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you’ll think of us. Remember to take all of your belongings, but if you do decide to leave something behind, just make sure it’s something we’d like to have. Enjoy your day.” 

There was a round of laughter, muted in that weird way everything was while your ears were still adjusting after landing. Scott turned off Airplane Mode on his phone, so it would update from California time to Eastern, and checked his texts. He didn’t expect any, but he did have a couple from his sister.  

Have a safe flight! 

Can’t wait to see you, it’s been so long. 

Have you landed yet? 

He looked up from his phone to find the aisle still full and moving slowly. Everyone was always in a hurry to get off an airplane, so there was nowhere for him to go yet. He was too damn tall to stand up and wait the way some people did, stooping slightly under the overhead luggage compartment, so he sat there in his window seat and waited for the plane to clear out enough for him to get up.  

It wasn’t like he was in a hurry. He didn’t have any plans, didn’t have anywhere to be. He was just…headed home. 

Just landed, he texted back.  

Yay! See you soon! 

Well, at least Kate would be glad to see him. And Ma. Ma would be too, in her stoic New England way. He told himself that after an awkward moment where they’d all acknowledge that he hadn’t been home to visit his family on Cape Cod in years, things would relax and be more normal. Whatever normal was.  

He’d hide behind Kate if he had to. 

By the time he’d visited the men’s room, grabbed a very necessary cup of coffee, and found the baggage carousel, the luggage was coming up. He didn’t have to wait too long; his black suitcase arrived on the conveyor belt and right into his hands as if it had seen him first.  

He got a little turned around trying to find the rental cars, but eventually he and his coffee were in the driver’s seat of a shiny black SUV, and he was on his way.  

The drive out of Boston wasn’t so bad, even with it being rush hour, but it took him almost two hours to finally roll over the Sagamore Bridge. He knew the route well, but he’d made one slight miscalculation in his planning: two hours in traffic was a long time to be alone with your thoughts. He played with the radio and figured out how to Bluetooth his phone to the car so he could dig up a playlist. He sang along, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and marveled at the vacationers with their bike racks and box carriers, paddleboards, kayaks, and coolers. Vehicles so packed to the gills you couldn’t see out the rear window. So many people trying to make the most of this last week of a lazy summer before schools started up again and the reality of fall set in.  

His had never been one of those families. Scott was a townie, born and raised in East Falmouth, graduate of Falmouth High.  

Go Clippers.  

He’d been one of the local kids that watched those cars full of tourists come and go every weekend all summer long, hoping one of them would bring him a friend, a summer fling, or even just someone different and interesting to hang out on the beach with. He’d made new friends every summer and said good-bye to them every September. 

His coffee ran out long before he crossed the bridge, but he made it onto the Cape and hit the drive-through at McDonald’s. There was a long line, but he got in it. He was all in now, right?  

Headed home for good.