Two days later
The airport terminal is buzzing with early-morning holiday travelers, but Locke moves through the crowd like a heavy wave cutting straight through water. He has both of our leather weekend bags slung over one massive shoulder, carrying them effortlessly while his free hand stays firmly tucked around mine.
"Locke, seriously, I can carry my own bag," I say, glancing up at him as we join the line for TSA security. "You look like a pack mule."
"Not happening, baby," he grunts softly, pulling me just a fraction closer as a guy with a rolling suitcase cuts a little too close to my side. Locke gives the man a flat, unyielding look until the guy stammers a quick apology and backs off. "You're walking light today. That's the rule."
I shake my head, a warm laugh bubbling up in my
