Quiet Angel by Prescott Lane

here. Her father’s funeral already had been awful, uncomfortable, cold. And her mother, as always, managed to make things even worse.
    The clerk saw a line forming at the counter. “Miss Tanner, what would you like to do?”
    Layla kept her eyes shut. She was never sure if her mother intended to be a bitch or if the woman was just so primitive, so backwards, that she just couldn’t help but say stupid things. Either way, as far as Layla was concerned, there was nothing motherly about the woman, and there hadn’t been for a very long time.
    An earthy voice called out from the line, “Excuse me, ma’am, is there a problem?”
    Layla popped open her eyes, all five senses recognizing the voice, one she hadn’t heard in forever. She didn’t dare turn around to face him. She hoped his question was for the autobot and not her, not wanting him to see her so frazzled, if he even remembered who she was. She heard footsteps coming up behind her, and suddenly he was standing next to her at the counter. Layla leaned her head down, letting her brown hair cover the side of her face.
    The clerk shuffled her feet and stood a bit taller. “I’m sorry, sir, but we overbooked, and her seat was reassigned.”
    The man frowned and looked down at the boarding pass on the counter, recognizing the first name but not the last. He turned to the woman beside him. “Angel?” he asked softly, uncertainly.
    Layla nodded slightly, the name tugging at her heart. Only he calls me that . “It’s good to see you, Gage. It’s been a long time.”
    They exchanged an awkward hug then stared at each other, both in shock. Layla took the chance to study him. She figured he must be about 30 now. His face looked the same as before—the same strong jaw, the same sandy blond hair, the same deep blue eyes. He was dressed in navy slacks and a white-collared shirt, and his body seemed even better now—broader, more intense. She chuckled inside thinking back to their summer, unable to recall Gage wearing anything other than swim trunks and t-shirts. Perhaps the biggest change was his voice; it retained only a hint of his sweet Southern accent, though she could still hear it loud and clear.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked, a rush of memories flooding his mind.
    She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m trying to get home to Savannah.”
    “That’s where you live?” he asked. “I’m there a lot.”
    The clerk cleared her throat, and Gage flicked his eyes towards her. “Find her a seat,” he ordered.
    “Yes, sir,” the clerk said and looked down at her computer.
    “Gage, it’s OK. I’ll work something out.”
    “We’ll get it fixed,” he said.
    Layla saw the clerk typing like her life depended on it. “You have some kind of pull around here?”
    “If my airline makes a mistake, then we. . . .”
    “ Your airline?”
    He pointed to the sign for Southern Wings. “Since my dad died a few years ago.”
    “You run the whole company?”
    “I try to,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s not just a little commuter airline anymore.” He flagged another clerk to open a second station behind the counter, and an army of weary travelers shifted to another line.
    “So you became a pilot?”
    “Just like we used to talk about,” Gage said. “I went to the Naval Academy, became a pilot. When I got out, I took over for my dad, more of the business end. I’m licensed to fly commercially but don’t do it very often.”
    “I’m sorry about your dad. I always liked him.”
    Gage offered a tight smile then turned to the clerk. “What do we have available for Miss. . . .” He stopped and looked at Layla, recalling the unfamiliar last name on the boarding pass. “Is it Miss or Mrs.?”
    “Miss,” Layla said. He’s still smooth .
    “But not Baxter anymore?”
    “I changed it to Tanner.”
    “You got married?”
    “No, I just changed it.”
    Gage nodded as if it made perfect sense, though he had no idea why she’d change her