He nodded.
Bellhops helped people unload their matching luggage sets from their trunks. A few filled up a cart, but most took two. Half-a-dozen more formed a train.
Engines rumbled. Voices echoed.
A car door slammed, and Morgan startled. He dropped his chin to his chest and his bangs swayed in time with his movements.
“Once we get settled, we can get some lunch.” He had to be hungry. All he’d eaten was a bag of chips.
Morgan nodded again, this time his bangs parted enough to show the thin line of his mouth and the tic in his jaw.
“Say the word Morgan, and I’ll turn around.”
“C-C-Can’t.” His teeth clacked together.
“If you tell me to, I can.”
He shook his head. “B-B-Boat ha-as—” His inhale shuddered. “Wa-Wa—” The words scrambled into a tense whine.
A cluster of kids ran by, followed by what could have been three generations of extended family. They stopped by the fountain while one of the adults took photos with their cell phone.
The flash went off, erasing the shadows of the covered unloading area, and I squinted.
“Then tell me what will make this easier on you. No matter what it is, I’ll do it.”
Morgan’s wayward hand tangled up in his hair.
A child cried for their mother.
Morgan jerked like he’d been hit.
More car doors, more people, more movement.
We rolled forward another car length, and the bellhops pushed over brass plated carts. Two rolled sideways, and the sharp sound of their impact echoed.
Bags unloaded, more carts appeared. Another cart went AWOL and the bellhop was too slow to stop it. It collided with its overfilled twin, toppling them both.
Metal crashed against the concrete, raking the blacktop in a grinding scream, tossing out luggage across the walkway in a series of thumps.
Morgan pressed the heels of his hands against his ears. He swallowed over and over.
The whine ticking out of his throat got louder.
A man with bleach blond hair screamed at the bellhop who’d dumped his luggage.
Morgan sucked in a breath, chest pumping, body shaking.
“Hey—” I reached for him, but he’d already shoved open the door and dove from the van. “Shit.”
I put the van in park. Dog clamored over the front seats and chased Morgan across the parking area.
“Morgan.”
He wove through the crowd. When he turned suddenly, Dog pushed him back.
People recoiled, a few shoved Morgan away. He stumbled but didn’t fall.
“Hey…” One of the security guards left his post at the door and headed to cut Morgan off. “Hey, you. Stop.”
A cart blocked my path, I shoved the bellhop, the blond man, and some old lady out of my way, then climbed through the gap in another cart. I took up a run, but Morgan was already past the fountain and heading to the far end of the drop-off area.
Past that the exit into the street.
A street filled with cars going too fast despite the cramped lanes. My heart threatened to crawl up my throat. Dog shouldered Morgan’s knee, herding him back toward the building.
I ran but the security guard got to Morgan first.
“Hey, don’t…don’t touch him.”
The guard either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. He grabbed Morgan by his arm.
Morgan jerked back and brought down his free hand, knocking the man’s grip free.
“Don’t, just leave him—”
He went for Morgan with both hands. In a blur of grace, Morgan blocked both attempts with the heel of his hands. Dog wedged himself between Morgan and the security guard, forcing some distance. But I guess the guy had already decided he had something to prove and continued to advance.
“Stop.” I stepped in front of the guard.
He put his hand on the butt of his gun. The second security guard headed down the sidewalk in our direction.
People abandoned overseeing the care of their luggage to gawk.
“This is private property. Only guests allowed.”
And with both of us dressed in jeans and T-shirts that we’d picked up from the local thrift store made us look anything but.
“We have a reservation.”
The second security guard joined the first. He tried to step around me and get to Morgan. Dog cut him off, pushing Morgan back and barking at the man.
The second security guard talked into his radio but whatever he said was lost to Dog’s barking.
Morgan gripped his hair. The pain in his expression had nothing to do with how hard he pulled, but the battle to take control of a body that rarely wanted to cooperate.
The second security guard spoke into his mic again.
“Look,” I said. “Just give me a minute to calm him down, okay?”
The second guard took a step toward Morgan. Dog bared his teeth. The guy unholstered his gun.
“Whoa, whoa, there’s no need for that.”
“Call off the dog.”
“He’s just protecting Morgan, he’s autistic. He’s just overloaded. Give me a second to calm him down.”
I inched back and neither one of them lunged for me.
Dog let me pass.
The cords stood out on Morgan’s neck, his gaze darted from one side of the parking area to the other. That sound, that terrible, broken, wounded cry, trickled from behind his clenched teeth.
“Morgan, can I touch you?” I held both hands close to his cheeks. “Is it okay if I touch you, Morgan?”
For a moment his gaze met mine before fleeing.
I held Morgan’s face. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” I stepped closer and he closed the distance burying his face against my chest.
His breath bled through my shirt in heated puffs.
“I got you. No one’s going to touch you, okay?”
Morgan nodded and the guards exchanged looks.
Dog leaned against Morgan’s legs. He dropped a hand and squished one of the dog’s ears in his fist. Dog thumped his tail against the concrete.
People stared, voices hummed, car doors slammed.
Morgan’s gaze was everywhere but on me.
“I need somewhere quiet to take him.” I combed my fingers through his hair. “Please, somewhere away from all the noise.”
Morgan dropped his other hand to my wrist and squeezed.
“That’s it, sweetheart, come back to me, okay?”
The clatter echoing in the drop-off area sharpened and Morgan clenched his eyes shut.
“I’m not going to ask you again.” I glared at both of the guards. “I need somewhere away from all the noise. Now.”
The older of the two spoke into his radio. A moment later, a woman who was almost as wide as she was tall hurried down the sidewalk—the fluorescent pinks, yellows, and blues of her floral print dress bright enough to throw out a glow.
She stopped beside the guards and regarded Morgan over the edge of her horn-rimmed glasses. Then in a flurry of beehive, garish clothes, and dangling jewelry, turned on both the guards. “What the hell is the matter with you two? Go watch the door like you’re paid to do and quit harassing people.”
The younger guy recoiled, the older puffed out his chest. “Mrs. Doreen…”
She pointed a finger at him, her bright orange nail threatening to stab the tip of his nose. “Do not Mrs. Doreen me. Go. You’re not helping.” They backed away. “And if I ever see you unholster your weapon on anyone but another person with a firearm, I will toss you into the street without your pension.”