When the wheels set down in Denver, my head fell forward, my chin sliding off my fist. I smacked my lips, taking a sip of water as the flight attendant began her speech about disembarkation procedures. Once the plane came to a full stop and a bell chimed over the PA system, seat belts clacked in quick succession, sounding like the clicking of a keyboard, and then the rustle of everyone standing at the same time resonated throughout the fuselage. I had checked all of my belongings, so I squeaked past the silver-haired businessman and stood in the aisle, waiting for the door to open.

The walk up the jetway seemed longer than usual, as did the train ride to the baggage claim terminal. Everything felt different—I felt different. When I reached the escalator and ascended to baggage claim, I saw Tyler standing at the bottom, getting shouldered and nudged by people getting off the stairs and passing by. He looked up at me, never pulling his gaze away until I was standing in front of him.

“Hi,” he said, nervous.

“Thanks for coming all the way here to pick me up.”

“I’ve been everywhere and called everyone to find out where you went. I was going to be here when you came home.”

Someone pushed from the back, forcing me to take a step forward.

“Hey,” Tyler said, pushing the guy back. He guided me farther away from the top of the escalator, and the warmth of his fingers on my skin made me more emotional than I’d anticipated. “I didn’t realize two months could feel like such a long time.”

“Probably because you didn’t have a coat,” I said, handing him his jacket.

He looked down at the fabric in his hands. “I’d forgotten about the coat. Couldn’t forget about you.”

“Just needed some time to get my shit straight,” I said.

Tyler smiled, seeming relieved at my choice of words. I was wearing the cream dress and tall, high-heeled suede boots Finley had sent. My hair fell in soft waves to the middle of my back, smoke free and clean. I looked very different from the last time he’d seen me, but he appeared reassured that I at least sounded the same.

The conveyor belt buzzed, alerting the passengers from the flight just before it began to move. They crowded around the baggage carousel.

“Here,” Tyler said, taking me by the hand and leading me closer. Bags were already tumbling to the long oval that surrounded the chute. My bag was the third, the handle wrapped in a bright red priority tag.

Tyler lifted the large luggage without effort, then extended the handle. “It’s a hike,” he said, apologetic.

“We’ve hiked together before.”