His T-shirt was ripped at one shoulder. His jeans were stained black with grease. Dirt streaked his face, and his chest was rising so hard it looked like his ribs might crack through his skin.
A flight attendant rushed forward at once.
“Hey!” she snapped, yanking the boy back. “You can’t be here!”
The kid stumbled sideways, caught himself, then grabbed the side of the plane like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Please,” he said, staring at Nathan. “Please, sir—”
“Security!” the attendant shouted. “Get him off the runway now!”
A few ground crew workers glanced over.
One pilot looked away.
That was how life worked around men like Nathan Cole. Problems got removed before they became inconvenient.
Nathan could have turned around.
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