After a restless night, this flight was going to be Hell. Good thing Michael was going with them, he might need the backup if he couldn’t focus like he needed to. Three hours in the air seemed like nothing, but it was still time in the air. Time he needed to be on his A game, but last night had thrown him for a loop. Augusta said things he hadn’t realized he longed to hear, and he’d touched her in a way he had never allowed himself to even think about.
The intoxicating smell of her arousal mixed with her scent of cucumber kiwi still lingered in his nose. He swore he could still feel her hot pussy in his hand. Get it together, man. You are not some young punk that just touched his first boob, for crying out loud. As John told himself that, he remembered how his reaction to Augusta was damn near the same as when he had touched his first boob. Then, he’d come in his pants before he could even close the deal, and he’d been on the verge of that last night with Augusta.
However, it was the look of heartbreak he’d caused that haunted his bed last night. Her unconditional acceptance and forgiveness invaded his head whenever he tried to remember how amazing it felt to hear his name spill from her lips in passion.
That was the icing on the crap cake. Why did she have to be so Zen about it all? Why couldn’t she do what any other woman in that situation would do…yell, scream, fight, get pissed…something…anything but being that kindhearted woman who rescues feral cats. Her anger, he could handle; her heart, he could not.
There was a moment he thought he caught a spark of anger lurking behind her intense hazel eyes. He was ready for it, would welcome it; he wanted it, needed it, but she banked it.
No doubt, the Boob Brigade, as Walker calls them—behind their backs, of course—would already be privy to what went down last night.
John already had his ass chewed by his sister via text, because he rejected her call, before his head hit the pillow last night. In a strange way, he took a small measure of comfort in the fact that they had Augusta’s back. It wasn’t her way to give a play-by-play to her friends or bad mouth anyone, not even him. As a matter of fact, the only time he’d ever even heard her tell a story that made the other party not look its best was concerning her parents.
This trip was bound to be interesting, and not in the good way, since he’d be stuck in tight confines with half the Brigade, and Michael, for the morning.
Oh well, I’m a grown man, I can take it. Of course, he’d have to remind himself over and over that their actions were because they cared about Augusta, and about him.
He looked up from his inspection to see Tori and Erika heading toward the plane. Michael appeared behind them, buried in bags and looking more like a pack mule than a man.
John dropped what he was doing and made a beeline for Michael to relieve some of his burden. “You know there’s no shame in taking two trips.”
“Bite your tongue, old man,” Michael quipped as he released some of the cargo he was balancing. “Just because you’re closing in on joining the AARP doesn’t mean we all have to start eating dinner at four and watching the Weather Channel regularly.”
Coming from anyone else, John might take offense, but from Michael, it was just typical banter. Michael filled a tiny bit of the space Troy left, so they possessed a unique relationship.
“Shut your mouth, youngin’. I am not that old. Besides, need I remind you of your wife’s age?” With a raised eyebrow and crooked smile, they raced to the Cessna. John called a quick hello to Tori and Erika as he passed, taking note of their expressions. This pack mule race was totally expected by them—par for the course.
Beating Michael by at least two strides, John turned to his friend to gloat. As he ribbed him for being slow at his young age, Tori and Erika arrived at the wing. They didn’t say anything about Augusta when everyone loaded in the plane, or after they took off. In fact, the ladies had been quiet for the first hour, barely talking at all. They were busy taking pictures and “oohing” and “ahhing” at the beauty of the Emerald Coast from 9,000 feet above it.
It was Michael who jump-started the conversation with a simple, “So, what now?” Nothing elaborate, no names, just three words in the form of a question, yet everyone in the plane knew exactly what he meant.
John couldn’t even be upset with him for opening that can of worms. It seemed Michael was confused about what to say or do…if he should take sides or what. Michael just honestly wanted to know how to proceed so he didn’t piss off his wife or his friend.
But as those three words crackled through all four headsets, John knew he would have to be honest, they deserved that. Just as Augusta did. However, he would leave the details until he told her. She deserved to know his feelings first, but he could put all three of their minds at ease.
Before he could speak, he was bombarded with questions and statements from the back where the two Reid ladies—one by birth, the other by marriage—sat.
John had a momentary flashback to the first time Tori sat in his plane. It’s where she’d met Michael. The sparks of attraction were instantaneous and so intense, he could feel them from where he sat. Even if neither of them could feel it, or rather didn’t want to, he did. It was the same way for him when he first saw Augusta—not as intense, but then, he metered emotions better than some, always had. Well, not always. It started with the loss of his parents, then intensified with the loss of his brother, but he perfected it when his child was viciously torn from his heart in a way that hurt far worse than death.
“Wow, ladies, don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.” Humor was probably the exact wrong approach, but John did better in one-on-one situations where he could deal with a single person’s emotions, not three rapid firing at him.
“I appreciate your concern for Augusta. I’m glad she has friends like you looking out for her, but I vow to you, I am not setting out to hurt her. I would sooner cut off my own arm than cause her pain. I know that seems like lip service after what you’ve heard happened, but I promise you, it’s not like that.”
Tori’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave him a bit of reassurance that she hadn’t taken up arms against him just yet. “Then what is it like, John? I know you are attracted to her, care for her. It’s obvious to me now that Mom pointed it out. I don’t know how I ever missed it, but I don’t understand your hesitation now that Dax and Stacy are together. I’m sorry for that, by the way, but you have to admit, it would make one hell of a movie plot.”
Leave it to Tori to bring everything back to movies, kind of like Augusta did with songs. Sadly, this whole debacle would make a good movie plot or cheesy romance book idea, but as far as his life went, it sucked. John was in an uncommon state for him. Even with all the curveballs his life had thrown him, he had never hesitated to step up to the plate and take a swing. Sure, I strike out sometimes, but I’d never get a hit if I didn’t swing. That was the way he lived his life…until now. Until Augusta.
But the pregnancy was the one thing John was having a hell of a time getting over. So, instead of risking a strike out, he just stood there, bat in hand and watched the balls fly by.
Then last night happened. It wasn’t planned, it just happened, naturally, like it was guided by something other than his conscious hesitation, and it was glorious. As soon as he caught himself living in the moment, he pulled back, and that hurt worse than if he’d just said good night at the door. God damn it, fighting myself is harder than fighting anyone else. For those fleeting moments in the foyer, John was free—free from his past, and free from the reins he held on himself.
John appreciated Tori’s apology and willingness to move on from her failed matchmaking attempts, but could he move on? Could he share his secrets and shame with Augusta then put them in the past where they belonged? Could he get over their age difference and accept his other inadequacies? Could she? Could he walk up to the plate, set his feet, and take a swing at the next ball pitched to him? That’s the question that seems impossible to answer.
“Tori, you have nothing to apologize for. What you did, you did out of love, and for the record, it has nothing to do with the present situation, so stop worrying.” John patted her hand and enjoyed the sisterly love he felt for Tori.
He returned his hand to the yoke and made a quick call to the tower. Then he decided to ask for advice. It wasn’t something he traditionally did, but he felt that the three people in the cabin each had a unique perspective on relationships, ones that might be relevant to his situation.
Tori had been in a bad relationship when she met Michael. Michael had suffered a trauma and cast some undeserved blame Tori’s way for it. Erika had a huge misunderstanding with Walker and left the state, and their stubbornness cost them dearly. So, each one has an extremely relevant prospective to offer me.
“You did so much for us, listened to more of my woes than I care to admit, so throw it out there. It stays here with us, and who knows, old man, maybe us youngins have some wisdom you don’t.” Michael’s voice held concern.
“First off, like I keep telling you, I am not that much older than your girl back there, so cut it out.”
Before John could add something to take the edge off what he said, make it seem more of a joke than a sore spot, Erika piped, “Is that an issue for you John, your age? If it is, well, you need to get the fuck over it. I am older than Walker, Tori is older than Michael, I mean, hell, she probably has gray pubes by now.”
That was interrupted by a slew of curses and not so savory names being hurled back and forth and what appeared to devolve into a good-natured slap fight. For grown women, they sure were acting like teenagers.
“Ladies, save it for Jell-O and a high-def camera, please,” Michael delivered with his hands in front of his face and camera clicking sounds.
“Children, don’t make me turn this plane around,” John spoke at the same time as Michael, cancelling each other out over the headsets, but loud enough that it could still be heard.
“Tori, stop it, you old crone. This is serious, but for the record, I’m not sorry.” Erika stuck her tongue out like a twelve-year-old.
“You will be, hooker. You have to sleep sometime, and I think your eyebrows are a little Salma Hayek in Frida-looking. Buzzzzzz.” Mocking a shaving motion, Tori laughed the entire time.
Sometimes it was hard to believe those two weren’t real sisters raised together. After they got their inner children under control, Erika continued, “Where was I? Oh yeah, the getting the fuck over it part. Did you know that not a single couple in our happy little clan is traditional? Not in any way that people expect, not even age. Frank and Francis have been together since dinosaurs roamed the Earth, and did you know, Francis has at least a decade on him? So, see, age is just a number. Problem solved, I am awesome, and you should all bow before my amazingness.”
Erika smugly dusted off her hands and folded her arms like she had just balanced the country’s budget.
Granted, the age thing had been creeping into his mind an awful lot lately, but it wasn’t the biggest hurdle. “Wow, really? Francis looks my age. For that matter, so does Frank.”
“It’s actually sixteen years, Miss Know-It-All,” Tori quipped. “So yes, age is just a number and all that, but I have a feeling that is not what is holding John back, am I right?” Tori’s mood shifted back to serious.
“I have a lot of mental roadblocks up. They never really bothered me before, because I guess that wasn’t a road I wanted to travel, but now?” John trailed off. He didn’t know how to continue without breaching some sort of trust with Augusta. She deserved to hear about his son first. The problem was, he wasn’t exactly his son. But after all this time, John still thought of him that way. Even now that he knew the truth, had since practically the day he was born, he still had a son-sized roadblock in his way.
“Well,” Erika paused, “I can tell you first-hand, being childish and stubborn and running away is the wrong answer. Clinging to what you think you know rather than just fucking reaching for the truth will only hurt you and Gus in the end. I am so fucking thankful every damn minute that things worked out for me and Walker. I mean, shit, I did everything humanly possible to sabotage it, not on purpose, but because I acted like a bratty child. I didn’t trust my damned heart to guide me. And I didn’t trust him to know what he wanted.”
Before John could chew on her words of wisdom, he laughed at the fact that Erika was cursing up a storm. She was always so careful around little Willow, but when she got away, she adopted a sailor on shore leave vocabulary—just like Walker; that man said fuck more than the population of the panhandle did it. John was cracking himself up; that was the first clue this little tet-a-tet was just what he needed.
In his peripheral vision, John noticed Michael examining his wedding ring, seemingly pondering on the I Care inscribed inside.
Once he replaced the ring, he shared his thoughts. “You know, when I was at my lowest point and thought that I would never pull myself up, a wise, bearded mutha told me, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘the question isn’t how you feel, but what you are willing to do to prove it.’” Michael’s seriousness spoke to his emotion. For a moment, silence reigned. John took that time to reflect on the words shared with him. “For what it’s worth, I’ve learned that the people worthy of being in your future will be able to handle your past.”
“Ha, look at you, all grown up and shit,” Erika teased Michael, before turning to John and dropping the humor. “Speaking of pasts, John, have you ever listened to Augusta when she talks about how she views our individual pasts, or when she is trying to bring Walker to a good place? Hell, have you ever watched one of her live feeds?” Before he had a chance to answer, Erika continued, “She says we are more than the sum of our past actions and stronger than it.”
John valued those words, but he would probably appreciate them so much more when he didn’t have a burning question occupying all his brain cells. “What live feeds?” Augusta had a live feed. How did he not know about it? He thought he knew everything, or at least, quite a bit. They had been growing closer as friends before the pregnancy. Obviously, that’s just one more thing I’ve lost along the way. That loss was hard to swallow, as a matter of fact, he refused to.
“Seeing your shock, I can only assume she didn’t tell you. I’m not going to be the one to drop her secrets to you. That is for the two of y’all to work out.” Erika raised her hands in surrender. “I will say her approach to the past makes me believe there is nothing short of hating Lynyrd Skynyrd that she couldn’t handle.”
Everyone agreed that was a deal-breaker, and it lightened the mood.
Michael recounted, “This old guy advised me once to start by assessing what I feel versus what I want or think I want, and to surround myself with the right people.”
John was a little choked up. Not only had Michael taken his words to heart and applied them to his situation, he was reminding John of them when they applied to his own life, as well. That, or it could have been the three hands that landed on his shoulders overwhelming him with emotions. I am one lucky S-O-B. Now, if I can get over myself and see where it could lead between Augusta and me, I might just get luckier.