Free Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) by Rissa Brahm Page B

and forth then tipped up to the ceiling in what he imagined to be some kind of prayer or request for an out-of -body answer. When she wasn’t gesturing, she’d sigh, her shoulders lifting high then falling low. In total, he sensed a level of desperation in her that sent chills up his spine.
    He shifted in the hard curve of the plastic chair.
    Not your problem, Ben.
    He looked down at his feet.
    Avoidance is key, Ben.
    Clank .
    His gaze shot up, following the sound. His soldier friend had thrown something at the window? She crouched down then stood up the next second, holding a gold ring between her thumb and forefinger. He immediately moved his hand to his chest, to his gold chain under his shirt which held his wedding band. No longer appropriate to wear on his hand, he kept it all that much closer to his heart. He watched the soldier slide her retrieved ring onto her left ring finger. She stepped closer to the window, hand soothing the glass—feeling for damage?—then she shoved her phone into her pants pocket and dragged her duffel to a chair a few rows away from him and sank into a seat. Good. She didn’t see him there. All good.
    But not all good. Not for his nameless line mate. Returning home from war to what—a fight with her husband? He rubbed his head and sighed. Although he’d do anything to have contact, any contact, with his Jamie again—even a fight of epic proportions would do—he did not envy the woman. She seemed defeated, drained.
    Odd, though. A fight with a spouse, a loved one, produces heaving fumes of raw emotion, real blood-rushing life. Not so with Unnamed Soldier. A thick quiet with a resonating emptiness came off her like the silent devastation after a land mine detonates—the one travesty he’d witnessed on his very last mission. Anyway, her leftover void was palpable.
    Like his void was palpable.
    He couldn’t just sit there and ignore her pain. No, he had to do something.
    He looked at his boarding pass, Group 1 First Class, just as a flight attendant— Violet Eyes !—sprinted past the podium, chucked a coffee cup into the trash, and rushed through the boarding door while onlookers grumbled and booed. Then she was gone again, a flash of energy. He returned his focus to his solemn soldier. Then to his boarding pass. That’s it. He’d give her his seat. Yes, that’s what he’d do. But from their brief exchange earlier, he knew she wouldn’t take it, not willingly. Too much pride. He had to do it anonymously. He’d go through Violet Eyes or one of the other flight attendants. Yes, he’d board first and arrange it. His much-desired sleep would be had, or attempted to be had, in coach class. He’d managed sleep standing up in desert heat on past missions. Coach would be fine. He realized that a first-class seat for Unnamed Soldier might be a useless bandage over the deepest of heart wounds, but it was something, right? It would be a brief comfort, a sign of appreciation. And it wasn’t even a unique gesture, as he’d seen it done before, by vets or patriots or guilty souls like him, but again, it was something. Something for someone who seemed to be devoured by a similar nothingness.
    And having an excuse to speak to Violet Eyes…that was not a motivation in the slightest.

CHAPTER 6
    P reeya tossed a guilty smile at Leena on her way back to coach.
    “Glad you could make it, Preeya.”
    “Thanks, Leena. Me, too. And in case I hadn’t told you before, you really are the best,” she called over her shoulder with her most professional-yet -cheeky tone. Leena had turned the other cheek at Preeya’s punctuality issues too many times to count. And although it was done with an air of superiority that caught Preeya in the chest each time, she owed the woman a lot.
    “You’ve told me. But it’s gettin’ really old,” Leena yelled. “So is covering your ass, Preeya.”
    As of that morning, Preeya knew a lot had gotten old, and she also knew that actions, not words, were needed to