I noticed him the second I boarded—the cowboy hat, the broad shoulders, the kind of face that made you sit up straighter. He kept looking at me the way someone studies a painting: quiet, intense. When turbulence hit, he stood beside me and said, low and calm, “You shouldn’t be worried about the bumps.” My heart did a stupid little jump.
“Why not?” I asked.
He glanced away and murmured, “Because that’s not what you should be worried about.”
Then he flashed a badge. “I didn’t come on this flight by accident,” he said.
What happened next changed everything…
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