The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  It felt like forever.

  “So Jackson and your husband work together?” I asked as we set up next to the empty mats Christina had reserved. What exactly did oceanographers do, anyway?

  “Yep. A few years now. But enough about the boys. What do you do?”

  I stripped off my outer layer of clothing, leaving me in my swimsuit like the other women.

  “I just graduated from college. I did a five-year master’s program in literature and education. So in a couple months, I’ll start my first teaching job, but right now I’m pretty much a beach bum. Which, thinking about it, isn’t a bad way to live.”

  “It sure isn’t. And where did you pick up that delicious accent?” She limbered up a little, twisting her body.

  “Southern Alabama. What about you? Or are you one of those northerners who thinks you don’t have an accent?”

  She laughed. “Wyoming. More west than north. So, tell me, what’s your damage?”

  Her words came with such honesty and genuine curiosity. In truth, it was the best kind of way to get to know someone quickly, if they were willing to open up to a complete stranger.

  But maybe that was the best time to lay your shit bare, when you had nothing to lose yet. Or maybe listening to the tape this morning had scraped another layer of dust off my avoidance. What the hell. If I scared her off, then so be it. I scared myself most days.

  “The man I loved was killed in action almost two years ago, and now I have horrendous anxiety attacks. I moved a thousand miles and cut off everyone I know but my friend Sam and my psychiatrist. Still want to be my friend?”

  I looked over at her slowly.

  “Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation.

  “What’s yours?” I challenged.

  “I’m insanely worried that Peter’s career will always come first and I won’t matter in the scheme of life. I also hate coffee and can’t understand why people willingly drink it. Still want to be my friend?”

  “Absolutely,” I stole her answer. “The coffee thing was a close call, though.”

  Her lips curved, matching mine as the instructor took the little platform set up in front of us.

  “Okay, ladies! Welcome to Hawkins Day! Now let’s get our energy flowing and center ourselves. Begin with the mountain pose.” She modeled the pose, standing with her feet wide apart and her hands reaching for the sky.

  I copied her, letting myself take in deep breaths of sea air as my whole body stretched to welcome the sun.

  After yoga, Christina and I made plans to meet up the next week, and then I chose to step forward into surfing after purchasing a wet suit. Holy crappola, did I suck at that.

  “You weren’t that bad,” Jackson assured me as we drove home that evening.

  “Are you serious? Were you watching? Goats are more graceful on a surfboard than I am.” I kept my voice low, noting that Fin had passed out in the backseat before we’d even made it out of Waves.

  Jackson grinned, and my traitorous heart skittered a few beats.

  “See? You know it was bad.”

  “I was actually picturing goats on a surfboard.”

  “They’d have a better chance of staying on that thing than I did, hooves and all.” I knew I wasn’t athletic, but that had just been embarrassing. There was a definite difference between thin and fit, and I was not fit. Grief had eaten away at my appetite and my muscles.

  “You can always get better through practice, if you want. I do happen to know of a nearby beach…”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Speaking of beaches, it’s really narrow here.” I changed the subject as we reached a particularly tight strip of 12. “What happens when the storms come?”

  “It gets hit. Hard. All of 12 does, really. Hurricanes like Irene and Sandy can cut us off from the mainland for weeks. They have to dig out the roads or rebuild them. We can usually get ferries going, but tides make it difficult.”

  “So they just keep rebuilding roads that continually get destroyed by hurricanes? I mean, those were both in the last decade.” Being cut off for weeks? Did I have supplies for that? I’d need to store some food. Maybe get a generator for when the solar panels we’d just installed with the roof didn’t hack it. Oh God, I was going to turn into one of those crazy doomsday preppers.

  “Well, yeah, people live here. Love it here. You’re one of us now, so you should appreciate the tenacity of the North Carolina Department of Transportation.”

  “It just seems so…futile to keep fighting for something you know won’t last.” Beach erosion was a serious issue—I knew that when I bought the house—and houses here had been known to float away into the Atlantic even without hurricanes. Just living here was a risk.

  He glanced my way, and then his hands tightened on the wheel. “Maybe it is futile. Maybe one day we’ll be forced to abandon it. But it’s okay to fight for something you love, to dig it out and build it back up in hopes that this time the foundation will be strong enough to withstand the hurricane. It’s just like what you’re doing with the house.”

  “I guess it is.” Fixing a house that could eventually sink into the ocean, fixing a heart that might end up useless anyway. Fixing a friendship that I’d all but ghosted?

  “And it’s okay to do all you can and still lose, still get washed away. It sucks, but it’s a far less tragic ending than never having tried.”

  The air between us thickened as he glanced my way and then back to the road.

  “Yeah, it’s those lost chances that end up hurting the worst,” I said quietly.

  “How did the foundation set on the house, by the way?”

  “Went without a hitch.” If we didn’t count the stupid weathervane.

  He smiled. “Good. That’s good. You can remodel the hell out of just about any house if the foundation is good.”

  I looked across the car in the dying sunlight and studied his face. Inches. He’d been a breath away from kissing me on his kitchen counter. Was it possible to want someone when you had nothing to offer but a ton of baggage and a damaged heart? Was I even allowed to want him in any other way besides a neighbor, or maybe a friend? Did it matter?

  Ripping my eyes away, I looked out at the ocean, recognizing that for the first time in years, I wanted a man who wasn’t Will. My heart ripped a little, and I raised my hand to rub the spot beneath my collarbone, partially to ease the ache there and partially to see if I could capture the little bit of light and hope that escaped from that tear. I could push my feelings about Jackson away all I wanted, but it didn’t make them any less real or any less dangerous.

  He lived right next door, so it was only a matter of time before I had to decide what the heck I was going to do about it. Avoiding him and shutting down whatever this was before it had the chance to start was the safest choice, and that’s what I needed right now. Safe. That was the logical choice—the only choice.

  I’d just have to say no to every invitation he offered and put a lot of distance between us, starting now. How hard could that be? No, I practiced in my head. No, no, no. See? I could do it.

  Fin stirred in the backseat, blinking awake with a stretch.

  “What do you say we get rebellious and stop for ice cream?” Jackson asked me with a mischievous grin that raised my temperature by at least two degrees.

  “Sure!” I answered before Fin even got the chance.

  I was so screwed.

  Chapter Nine

  Jackson

  “I like the pink one,” Finley informed me as we scrolled through backpacks online. “Ooh, and that blue one. And the green one.”

  “Well, you only need one, so which one is your favorite?”

  She scrunched her forehead, looking up at me and then back to the screen, seriously pondering her decision with an intensity that almost made me laugh.

  “Take your tim
e. Kindergarten is a big deal. I get that, and I firmly support whatever choice you make. You don’t even have to pick one tonight. It’s just orientation. We still have months before you start.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “The purple one.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “That’s the one. I know it.”

  “Okay, because I’m buying it right now.” I clicked add to cart.

  She nodded. “I’m ready.”

  “I know you are.” Maybe she was, but I wasn’t. I faked it well, though. “Okay, all purchased.”

  “Thanks, Daddy!” Finley plopped a kiss on my cheek and hopped off the couch, brushing her curls out of her face.

  “They won’t get in the way if you let me pull it up,” I reminded her.

  “Ponytails are boring,” she declared, skipping every age to thirteen.

  A knock at the door saved her from my eye roll.

  “We could stop by Grammy’s and ask Aunt Brie to braid it for you,” I suggested as Fin bolted toward the door.

  “Nope. She has really long nails.”

  “What?” That had exactly what to do with braiding?

  “It’s Morgan!” Finley called out, jumping up and down to see out the glass side panel of the front door.

  My heart rate kicked up, and I had the ridiculous urge to check myself in the mirror as I walked toward the door. Get a damn grip. But in my defense, I’d only seen her in passing over the last week, and this was the first time she’d ever knocked on my door.

  “Can I?” Fin asked, her hands already on the knob.

  “Yep. You can always let Morgan in.” Which now made six people on Finley’s always-allowed list: Brie, Sarah, Sawyer, Garrett, Vivian, and now Morgan.

  “Yay!” She flung open the door. “I can always let you in!”

  “Awesome!” Morgan held out her hand for a low-five. Fin gave it to her with a megawatt grin.

  “Come in!” Finley backed up and held out her arm like a gracious pint-sized hostess.

  “Why, thank you,” Morgan said, walking in.

  She was in a white, thick-strapped tank top and short khaki shorts that reached midthigh, drawing my eyes to her legs. Not that I needed a reason, because my attention always found its way there with Morgan. She was also wearing the same maroon ball cap from the pictures. His ball cap.

  Damn, I wished I hadn’t gone snooping.

  “Did you come to see my daddy?” Finley asked, shutting the door behind her.

  Morgan flashed me a small smile before turning back to Fin. “Nope, I actually came to see you.” She dropped down to Fin’s eye level.

  “You did?” Fin brushed her hair out of her face.

  “I did! I was walking the beach with Sam this morning, and I found this!” She opened her hand, revealing a small, perfect conch shell.

  “Ooh! It’s so pretty!” Fin leaned in close, examining the shell.

  “It’s yours,” Morgan said as she handed it over.

  “Really? It’s almost perfect.”

  Ah, and so the search continued.

  “That’s exactly what I thought when I saw it!”

  Fin grabbed Morgan’s still-outstretched hand and examined her fingernails. “Can you braid?”

  Morgan blinked at the subject change, but then nodded. “I can.”

  “Will you braid my hair?” Fin asked, using those eyes on Morgan to get her way. “I have kindergarten tonight.”

  Oh shit. That tightness in my chest was back, flaring in a fierce surge of emotion I had no right to feel. Finley liked Morgan. She trusted her, which only made my attraction to her increase exponentially.

  Morgan’s soft brown eyes found mine in silent question, and I gave her a slight nod.

  “If you want me to, I can,” Morgan replied.

  “Yay! I’ll get my stuff.” Clutching her new prize, Finley raced off to her room, leaving us standing in the entry hall.

  “Thanks. She never lets me braid it. Mostly because every time I try, it comes out lopsided and not very braid-like,” I remarked, struggling for something to say that wouldn’t come out hey-I-really-like-you-any-chance-you-might-feel-the-same.

  Because I wasn’t fourteen.

  And the woman still doesn’t know what you do for a living, jackass.

  “No problem. I’m happy to do it.”

  I walked her into the kitchen and offered her a drink.

  “No thanks, I’m good.” She braced her hands on the granite and boosted her ass into the same spot I’d put her when I’d patched her up weeks ago.

  If Sam hadn’t walked in, I would have—

  “So, kindergarten, huh?”

  “It’s just orientation for next year, but it crept up on me, that’s for sure.”

  “She’ll do great.”

  Fuck me. She crossed her legs and shifted forward slightly, leaning on her palms. Maybe it was the months of celibacy, but my body took more than enough notice of her. Shit, when was the last time I got laid? Not since Morgan arrived, that was for sure. Not for lack of opportunity but because I didn’t want anyone else.

  Holy shit. I don’t want anyone else.

  So what the hell did that mean? Did I want a date with this woman? A night in her bed? An actual relationship? Yes to all.

  She took a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise against her neckline, and I turned back to the refrigerator, popped the top of one of those antioxidant drinks Finley liked because they were pink, and chugged the whole thing.

  “Thirsty?” Morgan teased.

  You have no fucking idea.

  “You could definitely say that.” I turned slowly, and from the way her eyes widened, I was doing a piss-poor job of keeping my thoughts off my face.

  Only a few feet separated us. A heartbeat—maybe two—and I could be standing between her knees, her face in my hands, my tongue finally tasting the curve of her mouth.

  As if she could read my thoughts, her lips parted, and the air crackled for all the potential electricity lingering between us.

  “Got it!” Fin called out, skidding to a halt in front of Morgan with a tackle box full of hair-care products.

  Morgan blinked rapidly and turned to Fin. “Okay! Let’s get you started!”

  A few minutes later, Morgan had Fin on the floor in front of her as she sat on the love seat. She listened with rapt attention as Finley told her all about the great kindergarten backpack debate.

  I watched from the couch, trying to figure out what the hell I was supposed to do about wanting this woman. Hell, I hadn’t been on a second date since Claire. Hadn’t really been on a date at all.

  “What if I get hungry?” Finley asked as Morgan sprayed product into her curls. It was the first time I’d heard her voice concern over going to school.

  “There’s lunch time and snack time,” Morgan told her, brushing through Finley’s curls with ease. “And if you’re super hungry, just tell your teacher.”

  “What if no one likes my backpack?” she asked quietly, and it took everything in my power not to answer her, because she hadn’t asked me.

  “Then that’s their problem,” Morgan stated simply.

  I blinked. My first impulse had been to say that everyone would love her backpack, but Morgan’s answer was way better.

  Morgan threaded Fin’s curls through her fingers and wove a braid around her head.

  What the hell kind of sorcery was that?

  “What if they don’t like me?” Fin’s voice dropped even softer.

  I leaned forward, and Morgan shot me a look that warned against speaking. My eyebrows lifted, but I stayed silent.

  “Then they’re not the people you want to like you. And you already have one friend there, so you’re already starting ahead.” She flipped her hands and continued the braid up the other side of F
in’s head.

  “Who?” Fin asked, sitting stiller than she ever did when I did her hair.

  “Me. Just think, your first day of kindergarten will be my first as a teacher, so we’ll both be nervous. And I bet every other kid in your class has the same kind of worries you do. So if you smile big, you just might make them a little less nervous, too.”

  “You’re a teacher?” Fin started to turn her head but thought better of it.

  “I am. At least that’s what my college told me. I’ve never had a class of my own, though, so I guess we’ll see. I’ll be right down the hall from you in fifth grade.”

  She finished the braid, winding an elastic over the end and tucking it into the start of the braid before sticking a few bobby pins through it.

  “All done!”

  Fin popped up and ran to the mirror, where her jaw dropped. “It’s a crown! I have a crown!” She flew back in, wrapping her arms around Morgan and smacking her cheek with a kiss. “Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.” Morgan’s eyes slid shut as she hugged Fin tightly.

  Then Fin took off to put her hair stuff away, leaving us alone.

  Morgan rose from the love seat.

  “That was astonishing,” I told her as I stood. “How do you know how to do that?”

  “YouTube.” Her smile was soft but real.

  “She adores you.” Fin liked a lot of people, but that blatant look of affection she’d lavished on Morgan was usually reserved for me or Vivian.

  “Well, the feeling is mutual. She’s phenomenal.” We locked eyes briefly before Morgan looked away.

  “Thank you. You’re amazing. You know that, right?”

  Pink tinged her cheeks. “Not really. If you knew the real me, I’m not sure you’d think that.”

  “And what would change my mind?” I hoped she wasn’t alluding to the anxiety attack she’d gone through with the truck.

  “Okay, I’m ready!” Fin exclaimed, arms up in victory as she twirled in the newest dress Vivian had bought for her. It was a step beneath a ballroom, but it wasn’t exactly classroom, either, and on her feet, she wore her favorite pair of black Vans.

  “You look absolutely wonderful. I’m sure they’ll all remember you when it’s time to go back next year!” Morgan praised before I could question my daughter’s thought process.