Josh
I watch the little redhead dash through the sliding doors, portfolio clutched to her chest, hair wild from the helt.
Sothing about the way she moves, so determined, focused, and a little frantic, makes smile.
When I first t Hailey Jason in Sarah’s hospital room, my heart did a little flip. There was sothing about her that made stare at her for a bit too long, and her face lingered in my mind even after I was ho alone. I pushed it aside since she was Matthew’s sister.
The guy may not hate as much as before, but I am pretty sure he wouldn’t love the fact that I was lusting after his baby sister.
I even made a point not to move farther than hi and hellos at their wedding.
But there she was, running along the highway like so kind of beautiful madwoman. I couldn’t resist but rescue her.
The mory of Hailey’s arms wrapped tightly around my waist lingers, along with the faint scent of her perfu, sothing floral with a hint of vanilla is still haunting .
I swing my leg over the bike and sit for a second, helt in my lap, trying to shake the ridiculous grin off my face. I’ve had flings before, but they were casual and clean, with no strings. But this doesn’t feel like that. This feels like a door creaked open and before I knew it, I’d walked through it.
Matthew’s going to lose his damn mind if I try to date his sister.
But Matthew does not dictate my life now, does he? And I, for one, am not scared of him!
The girl with the wild red hair and the oversized portfolio just cracked sothing open in .
I rev the engine, ready to head back to work, when a thought strikes so suddenly that I almost laugh out loud.
What if I go to New York too?
The idea hits like a jolt of electricity, ridiculous and reckless and yet, it refuses to leave my mind.
Go to New York?
I glance down the road, the airport fading in the distance behind , then back at the traffic ahead.
Work can wait. My schedule’s flexible, and it’s not like I’ve never taken a last-minute trip before. Besides, I have a lot of airline miles.
I sit there for a mont longer, the engine rumbling under .
It’s insane. Impulsive. Potentially disastrous.
But my gut’s telling to stop playing it safe. I’ve spent too many years guarding myself, keeping things simple, casual, and unattached.
But ever since I saw her running down the highway...
Fuck it. I am doing it.
I pull out my phone and scroll to the Delta app. My fingers move before my brain can argue, tapping through flight options like I’m buying a concert ticket instead of chasing a woman I barely know.
There’s a flight out in ninety minutes. Direct. It’s pricey, but it’s nothing I can’t cover. I book it.
Done.
I stare at the confirmation screen like it’s a contract I just signed with the universe. No turning back now.
I shoot a quick text to my boss:
"Family thing. Gone for a couple of days. Laptop’s with ."
He won’t ask questions. He never does.
Then I hit up Rebecca. I had to tell soone.
"If Matthew kills , it was worth it. But don’t ntion anything to Sarah yet," I say cryptically.
Her reply cos within seconds.
"What did you do?"
I don’t respond. Not yet.
I ride ho fast, throw a couple of shirts and my laptop into a duffel, and change into sothing that doesn’t sll like exhaust fus. Then I’m back on the road, heading to the airport with nothing but instinct and a wildly stupid idea.
I just want to see her again.
I park my car in long-term parking, sling the duffel over my shoulder, and make my way to the terminal with a strange lightness in my step.
My phone lights up.
"Josh. Seriously. What did you do?" Rebecca texted.
I smirk and type back, "Tell you later."
I like to keep my friends guessing. It’s a hobby of mine.
The gate attendant calls for boarding, and I stand, my heart thumping harder than it should.
Nerves? Maybe.
I don’t know what’ll happen in New York. Maybe I just get a drink with Hailey. Maybe she laughs, says it was sweet, and thanks for the effort before moving on with her big career. Or maybe she will think I am so kind of a stalker and tell to fuck off.
I don’t expect a fairytale. I’m not that delusional.
But I’m also not the guy who just sits around and waits for sothing to happen. I make things happen.
The second my feet hit the ground at JFK, reality punches square in the chest.
I have no idea where Hailey is.
No address. No clue where her job is. Just the image of her dashing into the airport, portfolio clutched to her chest like a life raft.
I curse under my breath and lean against a pillar, thinking. I could call Sarah and ask, but she would tell Matthew.
Shit...
I scrub a hand down my face and mutter, "Okay, Josh. You flew across the damn country for a girl you haven’t even taken on a date. What now, genius?"
I scan the arrivals lounge, half-hoping to spot a flash of red hair by so miracle. Nothing since this wasn’t a fucking RomCom. This is real life.
My phone buzzes again. Rebecca, persistent as always: "Joshua Daniels, I swear to God..."
I sigh and make a decision. Rebecca was my best friend. I should tell her about my misadventures. I call her.
"Hey, Becky," I say casually.
Her sigh on the other end is imdiate and dramatic. "Don’t ’Hey, Becky’ . What the hell did you do, Josh?"
I grin, stepping out of the way as a group of tourists barrels past with rolling luggage. "Okay, maybe I did a thing."
"What thing?" she asks suspiciously.
"I flew to New York," I say.
"Okay, and?" She is getting impatient now.
"I did that to go after Hailey," I say. "I want to chase her down and take her out on a date."
"Hail...wait a minute. Do you an Matthew’s sister, Hailey?" she asks incredulously.
"Yup," I reply casually.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!"
I wince. "Why do you have to yell in my ear? Jeez..."
"Matthew is going to murder you."
"He has to catch first," I say, half-joking, trying to downplay the tightening in my chest. "And hey, technically, I haven’t done anything yet."
Rebecca laughs. "You flew across the country for a girl who you t like what? Twice?"
"Three tis now," I mutter.
"Three tis makes it official then," she deadpans. "How do you know where she is staying in New York? Did Hailey tell you? Or did Sarah?"
"About that...that’s the minor hiccup I’m working on," I say, pacing near the baggage claim like it’ll magically help think. "I have no idea where she is."
Rebecca goes quiet for a second. I can practically hear her blinking in disbelief through the phone.
"...You flew across the country for a girl, and you don’t even know her address?" she finally says.
"Correct."
"Jesus, Josh."
"I know, okay? I wasn’t thinking with my brain."
"Oh, I’m very aware. This has all the markings of a ’thinking with your dick’ situation."
I sigh. "It wasn’t like that. I an, yeah, she’s hot, obviously, but it’s more than that. There’s sothing about her."
"You are such a sap," she mutters, but there’s no bite to it. "All right, I’ll help you find her. But if Matthew finds out and you die a slow and painful death, I’m not giving the eulogy. I’m just saying, ’He died as he lived—impulsive and underprepared.’"
"Fair."
"Do you know what she said she is doing in New York?" Rebecca asks.
"Sothing about getting a big break," I say.
There’s a short pause on the line before Rebecca replies, "That’s vague enough to cover everything from Broadway to bartending."
I drag a hand through my hair. "I know. She had an oversized portfolio, though. I’m guessing art? Design? Maybe fashion?"
"Hmm." I hear her tapping away, probably on her laptop. "Okay, a redhead with a portfolio chasing a dream in New York. That narrows it down to only like five million people."
"Thanks for the optimism," I snap.
She snorts. "Sarah will tell , I am sure. Why didn’t you ask her in the first place?"
I groan. "Because Sarah will tell Matthew. And then boom—next thing you know, I’m getting a strongly worded death threat or worse, an intervention."
Rebecca hums thoughtfully. "You make a solid point. Okay, give so ti to find out. I’ll ask her super casually. Like, ’Hey, where’s your fabulous sister-in-law Hailey these days? I need her opinion on a print for my living room.’ Boom. Plausible."
I blink. "You’re a terrifying genius."
"Don’t forget resourceful and incredibly good looking," she replies.
I laugh, the tension in my chest loosening for the first ti since I landed. "I owe you, Beck."
"You owe so much more than a thank-you. I want dinner. Sowhere expensive. And if you end up marrying this girl, I’m giving a toast. A long one."
"I’ll let you DJ the wedding," I say.
"You are goddamn right you will."
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