“This is depressing,”
Desi sighs from her spot beside me on the top step of my stairs that lead into my apartment. We are currently watching the small crane lift the Blue Skies sign off the top of the office. “I wish there were something I could do.”
“There isn’t.” I take a sip of wine from my red Solo cup. “Sometimes you chase the dream and you catch it, other times you fall short.” The words sound good in theory, but they feel like shit when they’re reality.
“Are you really going to leave me?” she asks.
And leave Grant.
“What am I supposed to do, Des? In a month, I’m out of a place to live, and I don’t have a paycheck coming in to pay rent.”
“Easy. You move in with me.”
“Thanks. You know I appreciate the offer, but then what? Where do I work? I’m not qualified to do anything other than jump. Sure, I could try, but being chained to a desk . . . not having that rush? It would kill me.”
“Then maybe you do something else for a bit—help me with Doggy Style—and wait to see what happens out here with whoever bought this place. They might need help. It might not be jumping, but at least you’d be where you’re comfortable.”
“I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Pride doesn’t pay the bills, Em.”
“Neither does killing your spirit.
“The offer still stands.”
“Thanks. It’s generous of you, but how long can I hang on? It’s as if I’ve spent all this time dreaming of making this place my own, and now that I have the idea, I don’t want to settle. I shouldn’t have to settle.”
“Have you told him?” Desi says, lifting her chin to Grant’s car, which is heading down the highway toward us.
“Told him what?”
“That you love him? That you’re leaving? Either or.”
Tears spring in my eyes at just her words. “No to both,” I whisper.
“I figured as much. You want to tell me why not?”
I shrug, my mental turmoil over the past few days returning. “He’s been super busy. Doing all kinds of stuff for the chief to make amends for his suspension.”
“Ah, so the truth comes out. You haven’t been hanging out with me because I’m your first pick, but rather because you don’t have him to hang out with. I don’t do well being sloppy seconds.” She laughs, and I know this is her way of trying to add levity, but I don’t smile. “So he’s been so busy you couldn’t tell him you were going to leave? That sounds more like chicken shit to me than anything.”
“I’m scared to,” I say as his cruiser pulls into the parking lot. I know we still have time to talk because he usually has paperwork to finish before clocking off shift.
“Why? Because once you say it, you can’t take it back? Or is it because once you tell him you’re planning to leave, he’s going to lose his ever-loving mind? My bet is you’re avoiding telling him you love him but you aren’t in love with him enough to stick around to save yourself from that hurt?” She purses her lips and gives me an I-don’t-believe-a-word-you’re-saying look. “Self-preservation.”
“It isn’t like I’m not going to try to make it work. I’ll drive back on weekends—”
“Which are the busiest days for jumps.”
“I’ll make my off days match his so we can be together.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Desi, I love him, damn it. I want to make this work. I’m doing the best I fricking can, so stop the guilt trip, will you?”
She smiles. “I know you do. I also know you run when you’re scared. You put the pedal to the metal and race the wind and follow wherever it takes you . . . but I’m calling you on it this time. I’m holding you accountable. I’m not letting you leave us without knowing the exact day you are coming back . . . and it better be less than seven.”
“It’s only temporary.”
She stands, saying, “It better be,” before walking down the stairs without looking back and stopping when she reaches Grant in the parking lot. She laughs about something, and there’s an easiness between them—my lover and my best friend—that tells me I’ve built something here. A family. A place I belong. Every part of me wishes things didn’t have to change.
I watch the crane lift the old sign, its beeping filling the air as it swings it to the far side of the building, and I hate it. Everything about it.
As Grant heads in my direction, I make my way down the stairs.
“Are you ready for date night?” he asks as he closes the distance. “I just have to change real quick and I’ll be—what’s that?” he asks as he notices the storage containers stacked at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi.” I pull him toward me and kiss him hello with an unexpected desperation that suddenly feels so real.
I don’t want to lose him.
I don’t want to lose this feeling.
But I also don’t want to lose who I am.
“Whoa. Well, if that’s the kind of greeting I get when I come here when my shift ends, then I’ll be here every day at this time.” He chuckles against my lips as I just pull him into me and hold on tighter.
How am I going to tell him?
How am I going to convince him I’m not going gypsy?
“Em, I can put these with my shit when I take this trip . . .” Leo says as he turns the corner, his words trailing off when he sees Grant standing in front of me.
“Trip to where?” Grant asks as he takes notice that the containers are labeled as kitchen, desk, and bathroom. Grant looks from me to Leo and then back to me. “What the hell is going on, Emerson?” He’s already shaking his head, rejecting the notion that he already knows.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight,” I say, my voice barely audible. In my periphery, I see Leo slowly slink away and wish I could go with him. If the look on Grant’s face is any indication, our date night is about to turn into a blowout fight.
“You’re not going anywhere!” The workers pulling down the sign turn to look at us, prompting him to grab my wrist and all but drag me up the stairs so we can have privacy, which is a huge mistake. When he enters my flat and sees everything stacked in partially filled boxes, the hurt is written all over his face.
I could have played it off before. I had planned to tell him I was prepping for the end of the month, but him seeing Leo and knowing Leo is moving on to Fly High is all he needs to draw the conclusion.
He stares at me, a plethora of emotions flickering through those brown eyes of his and every single one of them—hurt, disappointment, disbelief—is paralyzing. “Were you going to tell me, Em? Or were you going to leave in the middle of the night like a gypsy because you were too scared to face me?”
“I told you I was going to tell you tonight.” I take a step toward him. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, Grant.”
“It isn’t? What exactly am I thinking, then?”
“I’m a restless soul. Blue Skies was my chance to settle, and now it’s gone. The new owner hasn’t said boo, and for all I know, they’re going to raze the place. They’ve already cleaned out the hangar. It’s written on the wall, my days here are limited.”
“You don’t know what the new owners are going to do. They’re already starting to make changes, taking the sign down, what have you. You have a month left on your rent, why not stay here and see what happens first?”
“In theory, it sounds good. But everything sounds good in theory. If it is a new flight school, that takes time to set up. Certifications, insurance . . . I can’t wait around for six months to see if I can start my life again,” I murmur, as if speaking the words softly will make them hurt him less.
“What about me, Emerson? What about us?” The way he says it—the hurt emanating off every word—makes it hard for me to think.
“We’ll make it work. It’s only temporary. Hopefully, this will be a flight school and I can come back and figure out a new dream to chase, but in the meantime, it’s only two hours away. There are days off and phone calls and FaceTime. We’ll make it work.” I’m pretty much begging for him to believe me, but the look on his face says he’s not convinced.
“It isn’t the same, and you know it.”
“I know, but it’s doable.”
“What if I told you that you’re not going? That I’m not going to let you go.”
Every part of me surges with his words, already knowing he wants me to stay but still needing to hear it. I chuckle. “Then I’d tell you that you know me well enough to know the quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t.”
“Is it that hard for you to need someone, Em? Is it that hard for you to need me?”
“No.” I’m just so conditioned not to need anything from anyone that my heart twists at the lie buried under all the truth in that one word.
“Then need me, damn it. Use me.” I watch the hurt manifest itself to anger. “Stay at my house. Live with me while we figure this out. Do anything but run away because running away is the chicken shit way to deal with this situation.”
There’s the second time in ten minutes I’ve been called that.
“I’m not running, Grant.”
“You sure about that?” His eyes bore into mine as everything about him screams defeat.
“I’m sure.”
“Good, then you won’t mind if I do this,” he says as he steps forward and, before I can even process what he’s doing, slaps a handcuff on my wrist and the other on his. “See? It’s that simple. You’re not going.”
And just as quickly as my heart breaks, my temper fires. “Are you kidding me? What are you doing?”
“Did you really think I was going to let you go without a fight? I’ve lost you once before, Em. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let it happen again.” Every part of me melts at his words and wants to surrender right here, right now to whatever he asks. I remember the emptiness I felt when I left him before. I remember how lonely I was, and I don’t want that ever again.
“So, you’re going to handcuff me?” I shriek, eyes wide and disbelief reigning. Amid the stubborn anger I have rioting inside me, a small piece of me wants to laugh at him. This is so us that it’s ridiculous. But I can’t. I won’t. At least not outwardly.
“This is just insurance to make sure you’re true to your word.”
“My word?”
“That you’re not running. So see?” He holds our hands up. “Now you can’t.”
I try to yank my hand away and am met with the bite of cold steel. The smirk he gives me and the feel of the metal is fuel to my temper. “The harder you fight against me, the closer I’m going to pull you.”
“Let me go.” Doesn’t he know he’s won?
He takes a step into me so his face is inches from mine, and as angry as I am at him, all I see are his lips. All I can think about is losing him. “This isn’t how a relationship works, Emerson. You don’t get to decide for yourself anymore. You talk to me. We discuss. Sometimes we fight. But in the end, we decide—together. Simple as that.”
“And you think kidnapping me is the right way to go about that?” Despite the bite of pain I know it will cause, I yank my hand again, but this time it’s more for show than out of anger. The look in his eyes and the determination in his words . . . how could a sane girl walk away from a man that resolute in his love for her?
“No, but apparently, it’s the only way when it comes to reasoning with you.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Do you think it’ll be weird brushing our teeth like this? Or how about going to the bathroom. That might cause some problems.” He chuckles and walks over to the couch without telling me so I’m forced to trail behind as he sits and puts his feet on the coffee table. “I could get used to this, couldn’t you?” Then he gets back up and walks to the windows overlooking the backside of the airstrip, forcing me to follow again. He turns one way to pull me and then back the other way.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” I say, trying to stand my ground when I’m not really sure what we are fighting about anymore. “We’re talking about the same thing here.”
“No. We’re not. You’re talking about going, and I’m talking about you staying. That’s as different as night and day.”
“It would be temporary.”
“I don’t do temporary. See?” he says, lifting our hands again. “I like sure things.”
“I am not running,” I grit out. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to lose the loan and have to leave. I wanted roots for the first time in forever. I want you damn it. That’s all I really want. You and my jump school. That’s it. So, stop turning this on me. Stop acting as if this is all about me. I love you, and as much as that scares the shit out of me, not having you terrifies me even more. You win. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll stay.” I heave in a huge breath because I used it all. When I look at him, he’s blurry because tears are in my eyes, and I don’t care. This . . . he and I . . . is what matters.
But his fingers on his handcuffed hand link with mine. He stares at me, eyes blinking, a ghost of a smile on his lips and relief easing the lines etching his features.
“It’s about time,” he whispers.
“What?” My head spins from the mental whiplash.
“I don’t need convincing about how you feel about me, Em. Hell, I don’t even need the words. I already knew. I just needed you to know. I needed you to admit it. I needed you to believe it. You’re the most honest when your back is against the wall . . . so, I pushed your shoulders some to get it there.”
“You maneuvered me.”
“I believe the correct term is positioning,” he says as his smile inches up a bit more. I want to be indignant that he can read me so well, that he knows me so well. And then I realize that I told him I loved him. He sees it the minute it hits me and reaches out to pull me against him.
“It’s okay to need me, Em. It’s okay to love me. God knows I think I’ve been in love with you since we were six years old. You’re maddening and frustrating and stubborn and the biggest challenge I’ve ever faced, but seeing you is the best part of my day and where you are is the only place I want to spend my nights. Losing the loan was a curve in the road we didn’t see coming. But you like to speed, so we can ride this out. We adjust the wheel and take the curve. We talk, and then we work together to create another dream for you to chase.” He leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a kiss to rival all kisses that I feel all the way out to the tips of my toes and back. “Two hours is too far away from me when we have twenty years to make up for . . . so, please trust me when I say we can make this work. Trust me when I tell you that making this work might be the hardest thing we ever do, but the payoff will be worth it and then some.”
I’m rendered speechless. I open my mouth to speak but know words won’t do any justice. So, instead, I press my lips against his.
“I love you.”
God, it feels good to say it.
To know it.
To know it’s returned and then some.
Grant Malone loves me.
We stand like this for a few minutes before there’s a honk of a horn somewhere outside that interrupts our moment.
“Seeing those boxes really upset me,” he admits. “Can we bring them inside now? Can we tell Leo you’re not going?”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at the silly request after such a poignant moment between us. “If it makes you feel better.”
My laugh turns to a shriek when, without warning, Grant swoops down and picks me up and hauls me over his shoulder, our handcuffed hands making it a tad more difficult.
“What are you doing?” I laugh.
“I told you, we’re going to get the boxes.”
“Right now? Wouldn’t it be easier if we had both of our hands free?”
He smacks me on the ass. “Yeah, but I kinda need you to get used to the fact that you aren’t going anywhere before I take them off.”
“You’re being ridiculous. After what you just said to me, any woman would be stupid to walk away.”
“That’s good to hear.” He laughs as he makes his way down the stairs. “But it doesn’t hurt to have a little insurance.” He sets me down on the ground and then says, “And a backup plan.”
“A backup plan?” I ask, using my free hand to flip my hair out of my eyes so I can see. And when I can, he lifts his chin in the direction over my shoulder.
I turn to look at what he’s talking about and blink. It takes a few seconds for it all to register. To understand what it means.
The new sign on top of the office. It’s a deep purple with the words “Wings Out” written in some fancy font atop a pilot’s wings.
“Grant?” I take a few steps forward, my free hand to my chest, my lips parted, my mouth dry, and my mind spinning.
The door opens, and I watch all the important people in my life walk out. Desi. Leo. Grayson. Grady. The Malones. Sully. Travis. One by one, they file out and stand beneath the new sign.
I blink several times to make sure I’m really seeing what I’m seeing. “Grant?” I ask again as I look at him standing beside me.
“It isn’t a painted zombie rock, but I think it will make you happy all the same.”
“This can’t be . . .”
“My backup plan.” His smile is wide as his eyes dance with excitement.
“What did you do?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of overtime for the department, so I figured why not use it as a down payment on a new business venture. It’s always been a dream of mine to own a business. You know, have something to fall back on when I retire from the force.”
“Grant,” I say his name again as I shake my head in disbelief. I must be freaking dreaming right now.
“I have some confessions to make,” he murmurs as he shifts and wraps his arms around me from behind as we both stand and stare at the new sign. “They were all in on it. Every single one of them, even poor Leo. I haven’t been working late because of the station, I’ve been madly scrambling to convince the owners of Blue Skies I’d be a better fit than the backup offer they were just about to sign on. That, and paying them a little above asking price had them changing their tune on which person they thought would be the best buyer. Then I had to get paperwork for loan docs. Desi was enlisted to keep you busy and away from my house. Leo has known for the last few days and played along so he didn’t spoil the surprise.”
“So, there is no Fly High?”
“There is, but not with you two. I’ve already called them and told them you wouldn’t be showing up.”
“Grant . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I need to say everything.” I laugh as none of this sinks in.
“No, you said all I needed to hear upstairs.” He presses a kiss to the back of my head as Leo whoops at something, and Desi’s cackle rings across the tarmac.
“This is too much, Grant. I can’t—the money—”
“I figured I didn’t need a new patio after all.”
“But you put in all that overtime.”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I assumed if you had a place of your own, you’d be stuck with me. You can’t go gypsy when you have roots. And I want you to have roots, Em. Here. With me. Ones that tangle with mine and can never be ripped out. Lazy Sunday together ones and white picket fence ones.”
“I’m stunned. Shocked. Overwhelmed.”
“This is yours, Em. Your school. Your dream. Yours. My dream has always been you, and I have you. Your dream is the school, and now you have it. Oh, but there’s one caveat.”
“Anything,” I say, still thinking I need to pinch myself.
“The new owner says it’s against code to have someone living in the hangar.”
“He does, does he?” If I could smile any wider, I would.
“Yeah, he’s a stubborn SOB, so I don’t think I can get him to change his mind . . . but I happen to know one half of a king-sized bed that’s unoccupied.”
“I snore.”
“I know.” He laughs.
I turn to face him for the first time and know I could never repay him for what he’s given me. The safety. The security. The love. The friendship. The humor. The opportunity.
“I’ll pay you back. I’ll work harder than—”
“I’ll count on it,” he murmurs as he presses his lips against mine.
“I’ll sign an agreement to—”
Another kiss.
“No worries, I have insurance.” He laughs as he holds our handcuffed hands up. “You’re not going anywhere.”