Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance)

by Chanel Cleeton

  TWENTY-FOUR

  BECCA

  I got into the car, my hands shaking, restless energy pouring through me. I needed to get out of here. Now. My chest felt too tight, like each breath was a chore, anger and panic washing over me.

  I wrapped my hands around the steering wheel, leaning forward and letting my forehead rest against the leather. I took deep breaths, trying to steady myself, and maybe, if I was really being honest with myself, waiting to see if Eric would come after me.

  He didn’t.

  Motherfucker.

  How was it possible that I was just as fucking stupid at thirty-one as I’d been at twenty-one?

  I placed the key in the ignition, turning the car on, and pulled out of the parking lot, not sure where I was going, but determined to get the hell out of here.

  I put the windows down, the air cooling me, the breeze doing the trick and releasing some of the tension from my chest. I turned on the radio, flipping around until I found a song I loved, turning it up to blaring, letting the air dry the tears on my cheeks.

  I was fine. I would be fine.

  I’d survived this once. I’d do it again, no problem.

  I hit the highway, torn between driving somewhere and just heading home. And then it hit me, and I was turning off onto the narrow gravel road, not sure if I was trying to ease the wound inside me or making it worse by opening it up and pouring salt inside.

  The drive was familiar, another spot like the farm, where we’d spent so much of our youth.

  Cranberry Lake was a popular spot for teens to hang out. It was gorgeous, private, and the kind of place you took a date when you wanted to get busy and had nowhere else to go. I’d lost my virginity to Eric on a blanket underneath the stars, had gone skinny-dipping and swimming there with him more times than I could count, and when he’d proposed to me on Valentine’s Day during our junior year of college, it had been on the dock of Cranberry Lake.

  I’d avoided this place for ten years. Avoided the memory of what it had been for me. Of what he had been for me. Tried to do everything I could to forget the moment he’d gotten down on one knee and asked me to be his wife, and then the moment that felt like its counterpoint after he left—when I’d come here for the last time and tossed my diamond into the lake.

  I got out of the car, walking down the dock, not sure where I was headed, but hoping I’d figure it out when I got there. I’d nearly reached the end when I heard the sound of a car engine, of tires over gravel, and then the engine cut off, a door slammed, and I didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Eric’s footsteps heading toward me. He knew all my moves, even before I did.

  “What do you want?” I asked, not bothering to turn and face him, knowing that looking at him would make everything so much worse.

  His voice scraped over my skin like sandpaper.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to do with that.”

  I stared out at the water, trying to fight the anger bubbling up inside me. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did he keep doing this? Why did I keep letting him?

  “It’s been my life for over a decade.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that. Thanks.”

  He made a frustrated noise. “I know you’re pissed at me. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you. I don’t want to keep repeating the same mistakes.”

  I turned, my heart clenching at the sight of him standing there before me, six-feet-Prince-Harry-hair-blue-eyes of everything I ever wanted and could never quite hold on to, no matter how hard I tried.

  “Really? You’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

  “I don’t know what I want, okay? I thought flying was what I was meant to do. I loved it. Love it. When I’m in the air, everything makes sense in a way it only ever has when I’m with you. And yeah, I’m confused. My life seems like it’s spiraling out of control, and I’m trying to hold on, but I’m afraid I’m holding on to the wrong things. I love my job, but I love you, too.”

  God.

  I’d thought I’d hardened my heart to him, thought I’d prepared myself for this, and now that it was here, I couldn’t keep him out. Those four words did stupid, stupid things to me, making me hope, making me feel. I was angry at him, but this wasn’t his fault; it was mine. I should have known better from the beginning. I should have listened to my instincts and stayed away from him. He’d broken my heart once, and against my better judgment, I’d let him do it again.

  “This was a mistake.”

  His hand caught mine, holding me in place. “Don’t say that.”

  I shook my head, tugging away. “It was. I knew better than to get involved with you again. I knew this would happen, but I thought I was older now, wiser, thought I could somehow survive you again, and you know what? I can’t.”

  His voice broke. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  “You keep saying that, but it doesn’t mean anything. You might not be trying to hurt me, but you are. So just let me go. We keep trying, but maybe we need to stop and realize this is never going to happen between us. We’re going around in circles and hurting each other in the process.” I took a deep breath, steadying myself, trying to get a handle on my traitorous heart. “You need to leave. You need to go back to Oklahoma and move on with your life. You need to let go.”

  I need to let go.

  His jaw clenched. “So that’s what you want? You want me to leave. You don’t ever want to hear from me again.”

  I wanted him to pick me. I wanted him to want to pick me. I felt like the girl I’d been before, heart in my hands, waiting to see if he’d make the right choice, if he’d pick us, and fuck that. I was done waiting for him to wake up and see what was right in front of him. Done waiting for him to see me. If this wasn’t what he wanted, then it was time for both of us to move on.

  “I’m asking for more time.” He ran a hand through his hair, his face pale. “I just need to figure everything out.”

  “You had ten years to figure it out. And what? Would you have ever come back here if we hadn’t run into each other? Or would another ten years have passed?” My voice rose, the truth behind my words hitting me like a slap in the face. “Your friend died. And I’m sorry you lost him. Sorry you feel responsible. It’s not your fault, but you don’t see that, and you know what, I can’t change your mind if you don’t want to change it.

  “You came back here broken and gave me the pieces, and like the idiot that I am, I put them back together for you. Because I’m stupid enough to love you no matter how many times you break my heart.” I shook my head, too worn out and sliced through for tears. “I did what I always do—I put you back together again. So go back to your life. Go home.”

  He flinched.

  “This isn’t your home anymore. I’m not your home anymore.”

  “Don’t do this—not like this.” The plea in his voice might have meant something once upon a time. Now it was just another thing standing between me and gone, and I wanted to get the hell out more than I’d ever wanted anything. “Give me time. Just give me—”

  “I gave you everything. There’s nothing left to give.”

  “Becca—”

  I stepped toward him and he froze, his big body braced for an invisible blow. I stopped when I was close enough that our clothes brushed against each other, the hem of my skirt flirting with the bottom of his khaki cargo shorts. My hand reached out, my palm connecting with the worn cotton fabric of his T-shirt, the breeze ruffling my hair so it brushed against his arm, grazing the freckles dusted there.

  His heart beat beneath my palm, steady and sure, the rhythm of it predictable even as I struggled to understand the how and why behind how it drove him, as I tried to decipher the language it spoke.

  As I gave up trying.

  I pressed my lips to his, his chest heaving on a sharp inhale and then back
again as the breath flowed from his mouth to mine. My fingers curled around his tee, holding him toward me for an instant before I pulled back, the heel of my palm pushing him away.

  I gave in to a moment of weakness, letting myself get a little lost in his blue eyes, the pain there scraping over me.

  “Becca—”

  “Good-bye, Eric.”

  I turned, the sounds of my shoes hitting the rickety wooden dock, a series of slaps. I could feel his gaze on me, boring holes into my back, and if I turned around, if I hesitated, if I indulged the feelings raging through me—the hope and pain beating my breast—I wouldn’t have the strength to do this. It would be so easy to sink back into his embrace, to give myself over to the power of his touch. It would be so easy and would steal whatever chunk of my heart remained.

  So I walked on. And on. Each step taking me farther away, each step leaving Eric firmly in the past whether I wanted him there or not.

  They were the hardest steps I’d ever taken.

  THOR

  I watched her walk away, hands fisted at my sides, panic in my chest. I wanted to go after her; I commanded my feet to fucking move, a voice screaming inside, telling me I was going to lose her, that this was it, this was good-bye. I stood there, impotent, confused, drowning, feeling as if I’d been thrown an anchor only to have it ripped from my grasp.

  Fuck that.

  I wasn’t a kid anymore. I wasn’t losing her. Not again.

  “Becca.”

  She didn’t turn around, her dark hair swinging behind her, her strides angry as she walked down the dock, toward her car.

  My footsteps picked up, my long legs eating up the distance between us until I’d broken out into a run, my heart pounding with panic and fear.

  I caught up with her quickly and she whirled around as I reached for her arm, her gaze pinning me.

  “What?”

  “I’m not giving up on us. I’m not choosing the Air Force. I’m telling you I can’t make promises right now because I have to sort out my job. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I need to go back to Bryer and see what my future holds. I’m going to look at options for getting out. I want to look at options for getting out.

  “I don’t want this to be the end. I love you. I’m sorry that doesn’t come with a ring right now, that in a way it probably feels like we’ve gone backwards, but given how crazy my life is, I think the best thing for us is to take things slowly. To see how you feel about being with me in the military. I have a year left on my commitment, but in that year there’s a deployment, and I know it’s a lot to ask you to deal with.”

  I pushed past the boulder in my throat, the tremor in my voice filling my ears.

  “I know you’re scared. I know losing your parents the way you did was hard, and I know you’re afraid that something will happen to me. And with everything that’s happened lately, I’m scared of that, too. I wish I could promise you that it’ll be easy, that I’ll always be safe, but I can’t. I’ve already broken too many promises to you; I don’t want to break another. But I promise I’ll put you first. Put us first. That I will always love you.

  “I want to examine my options. Want to figure out the best career move for both of us, so I can be the man you deserve. I want to build a future with you. That’s all I want. I want to wake up in the morning with you and go to sleep with you at night. I can’t promise I can give you that life any more than you can promise you’re going to be okay being with me while I’m in the military, but I want to see where this could go. I want to stay together. I love you.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, but I saw the moment when her expression changed, the flicker in her eyes that told me she’d let me in instead of pushing me out.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered. “You’re right; I don’t ever want to lose you. Don’t want to get a call in the night saying there’s been an accident. I know I hold on too tight, but I’m scared that if I let go, you’ll be gone. I’m scared that we aren’t kids anymore, that we’ve built our own lives and that as hard as it was for us to come together ten years ago, it’ll be even more difficult now that we’re set in our ways.”

  “I know. Me, too. I’ve been thinking about the PTSD.” It was the first time I’d put a label on this feeling inside me. “I’m going to talk to someone when I get back to Bryer. I need help. And yeah, maybe it’ll screw me in the long run, but it’s the right thing to do. I want to take care of myself. For you and for me, and for the guys who depend on me when I’m in the air.

  “I don’t know if this will work. Don’t know if it can work. But you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved and that will never change.” I reached out, stroking her face, staring into her big brown eyes. “I let you go once; I can’t do it again.”

  “I don’t want to let you go, either.”

  “Then don’t. Thanksgiving is in a month. Why don’t you come out to Oklahoma and visit? I’ll get four days off. You can meet my friends, see what my life is like. It’ll give us a chance to see how things are between us outside of Bradbury. Do you already have plans for the holiday?”

  “I usually spend it with Lizzie, Adam, and Dylan, but they won’t miss me.”

  “Then come out. We’re doing a big Thanksgiving dinner with the guys in the squadron who can’t spend the holiday with their families and there’ll be lots of wives and girlfriends there. Everyone’s dying to meet you.”

  “You’ve told your friends about me?”

  “Well, yeah. How could I not? You’re it for me, Becca. You always were.”

  She wiped at her eyes, the look there filling me with the kind of hope I’d never dared to feel.

  “Okay.” She reached for me, her arms wrapping around my neck, pressing her body against mine.

  “I love you,” she whispered in my ear, so quiet I barely heard it, but loud enough to count.

  I held on to her tighter, hoping those three words were strong enough to keep the world at bay.

  “I love you, too.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  BECCA

  I stared up at the clear blue sky, my gaze searching, heart pounding.

  “Which one is he?”

  “He’ll be the first plane to come into view,” Jordan answered from her spot next to me on the flight line.

  Eric hadn’t been able to come pick me up from the airport when I flew to Oklahoma the day before Thanksgiving, so he’d sent his friend Noah’s wife, Jordan, in his stead.

  I liked her from the start; she’d explained that she was new to military life, too, and that she and her husband—who she referred to as Noah rather than the call sign I’d heard from Eric—had been married only six months. Eric had explained they’d been living together in South Korea until Jordan became pregnant, but owing to complications, her doctors had advised she come home. I couldn’t imagine spending your first married holiday away from your husband, but she seemed to be taking it in stride. We had a big Thanksgiving dinner planned with eight of Eric’s friends, Jordan included. I was equal parts nervous and excited to meet the rest of the group, to see this side of his life.

  Back in Bradbury, it had almost felt like nothing had changed between us, as though he’d never left. But here there was evidence of all the differences between us, of the decade we’d spent apart. None more glaring than the way I stared up at the sky, waiting for his F-16 to land.

  When he mentioned that he had to fly when my plane arrived, he’d made this suggestion for me to come see what he did all day, the excitement in his voice impossible to resist. So here I was, trying to envision a future for us even if it looked nothing like the one I’d always imagined.

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” Jordan commented, tilting her head to smile at me. “The first time I watched Noah land, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.”

  I grinned. “That sums it up.”

  Suddenly, a l
oud roar filled the air around us, cutting off all conversation. It was a shriek unlike any I’d ever heard, heralding something impressive heading toward us.

  Easy walked up beside me, staring up at the sky. He’d been nice enough to escort us onto the flight line so we could watch Eric land. He pointed up, his voice rising to be heard over the plane’s engine. “There he is.”

  At first it was just a speck against the few clouds—a loud speck—and then the big jet came into view.

  It hit me so unexpectedly, but my chest went tight, an enormous feeling swelling inside of me, as though my body couldn’t contain the emotions spilling out. So many images of Eric filled my mind—the boy who’d courted trouble with single-minded determination, who’d bitched about having to read Middlemarch, who’d picked me up for our first date, given me my first kiss the same night, the boy I’d stayed up late with, talking about our dreams, the memory of the night he’d come home and told me he wanted to join the military, confessed he wanted to be a fighter pilot, a touch of embarrassment in his gaze at how big the dream was, his voice full of so much excitement.

  And then I saw the man he’d become. Who sat in the cockpit now, living his dream.

  I was so proud of him. So, so proud.

  And just like that, I knew—no matter how much he loved me or what he was willing to give up for us to be together, I didn’t want him to give up this. I didn’t know how we were going to work this out, only that we would. Somehow. But not at the expense of his dream, not at the expense of the thing that had turned him into the man he was today. A man I loved with every fiber of my being.

  Tears spilled down my cheeks as my emotions overtook me and I was grateful for the sunglasses hiding my eyes, a little embarrassed by how much the sight of Eric in that jet made me feel. Jordan reached out and put an arm around me, her free hand on her stomach, hovering over the tiniest of bumps.

  I watched him soar, amazed at the skill it must have taken, at how he could fly the jet with such ease, held my breath as he descended, as the wheels touched down on the runway. And then he was on the ground, safe, and all was right in my world.