Maryelle’s POV
The jet’s wheels screeched against the tarmac, jolting me back to reality. As the cabin door opened, the humid Georgia air rushed in, thick with jet fuel and anticipation. John fell into step beside me, his green eyes scanning the perimeter with the precision of a panther. I touched his arm lightly, forcing a smile. “Thank you, John. I can handle myself from here,” I said, voice steady despite the storm inside me. He hesitated, then gave a curt nod, stepping back as if releasing me into the wild.
My boots hit the ground, each step pulling me closer to the terminal where the crowd thinned—and then I saw him. Phantom. Alive. Waiting. My heart surged, and before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us.
I sobbed, pulling him into my arms and kissing him—a ki
