Chapter 4: Vacation from Reality

The Fort Wayne airport was quiet in the way only small airports ever were—no chaos, no rush of strangers, just the low murmur of announcements and the soft roll of carry-on’s across polished floors. Ty stood near the window watching the plane they would soon board, feeling that familiar sense of standing between worlds. Home behind him. Something unnamed ahead. Ann arrived a few minutes later, coffee in one hand, boarding pass in the other. “So,” she said, nodding toward the gate, “Miami first ... then vacation.” Ty gave a faint smile. “Feels like more than that.” Ann studied him for a moment. “Yeah,” she said softly. “It kind of does.”

By the time the ship pulled away from the dock in Miami, the ocean had already begun its quiet work—making people forget who they were. Ty noticed it immediately—the way shoulders relaxed, the way conversations softened, the way even the most serious faces seemed to loosen as if gravity itself had decided to take a day off. The cruise terminal buzzed with excitement, luggage rolling across polished floors, families laughing too loudly, couples already slipping into the version of themselves they wanted to be for the next few days. Ty stood near the rail as the shoreline receded, hands resting on cool metal, watching the city shrink into something manageable. He liked that. Cities always looked kinder from a distance. His sister leaned against him, nudging his arm. “You okay, soldier?” He gave her a half-smile. “I’m fine. Just ... adjusting.” She rolled her eyes. “You’ve been adjusting for six months.” Ty didn’t argue. He didn’t need to. She was right.

Across the deck, Ann stood near the group they’d traveled with, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head. She was laughing at something one of the guys said, her shoulders relaxed in a way that looked unfamiliar—lighter than the version of her Ty had glimpsed in stories. She caught his eye by accident. For a second, they just looked at each other. Then Ann smiled—not the polite kind, not the kind you offered strangers, but the kind you gave someone you felt safe around without knowing why. Ty felt something shift in his chest. Not attraction exactly. Recognition. He pushed himself away from the rail and walked over. “Hey,” he said. “Hey yourself,” Ann replied. “You survived the boarding chaos.” Barely, he thought. But he just nodded. “Good to finally meet you properly.” She tilted her head slightly. “We’ve technically met before.” “Yeah,” Ty said. “But this feels like the real version.” Ann laughed softly. “I know exactly what you mean.”