The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “God, no. Jagger, no.” I shook my head violently.

  “Hey, you got to unload yesterday, and now it’s our turn.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I think about him every day. I think about him in the moments I’m happiest, because he’ll never get the chances I’ve had. He’ll never get to see you wear white or watch you carry his child. I might not say it, but trust me, I think it. We all knew you two were inevitable. We just didn’t know what was coming for us. I’m so fucking sorry for your loss, Morgan, and for the time it took us all to finally say it.”

  The warmth of the mug started to burn, but I didn’t release it. “The truth is that Will had the chance to do all that. He just didn’t take it. Not in time, at least. That’s on him, not on you, Jagger. He wanted you to live because he made a promise to Peyton that he’d always take care of Paisley, and that’s what he did. He took care of Paisley and your son. Damn if that boy didn’t love a good promise.”

  My eyes fell to my cup and then rose to Sam when she tapped her finger on the table in distraction.

  “I’m sorry I let you put the necklace in with him.”

  My jaw slackened.

  “You wear that boy like a shield of armor around your heart, and I can’t help but feel like I let you bury yourself with him that day.” She forced a smile. “Oh, and I’m sorry that I left you our first day here to run for tequila that you couldn’t even drink, but I guess it all turned out okay.” She glanced around Jackson’s house and then smiled.

  “Yeah, it did.” I smiled right back at her, marveling that I could discuss Will and still feel that warm glow in my chest for Jackson. “Are you guys…okay with Jackson? Not that I’m going to walk out on him if you don’t like him or anything, of course. But he’s so good to me, and I know it’s foolish to even think of being with someone who flies the same damn helicopter—”

  “Stop,” Josh interrupted. “We’re going to love whoever you find worthy enough to love, Morgan. Jagger and I are both flying again, too, and I’m sure Paisley and Ember feel that same fear, but they put up with us anyway. You wouldn’t call that foolish, and I’m not going to let you think you’re foolish, either. We can’t help who we love.” He shrugged. “But if you could help it, he’s a damn good choice from what we’ve seen.”

  “Totally.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “I wish he flew a real helicopter, but he’s cool enough.”

  “I put my stamp of approval on that man the minute he swam up the beach and ran by. The fact that he’s just as nice as he is hot is a bonus.” Sam winked.

  My soul…settled. Calmed.

  Josh cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that I didn’t do this a hell of a lot sooner.”

  “Do what?” Jackson asked, coming to stand behind me with his hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee. Sorry it took so long. She’s…Claire.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

  “Pull up a stool,” Josh instructed, motioning toward the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

  Jackson fetched the nearest stool and sat beside me, holding my hand in his lap and setting his coffee on the table.

  Josh glanced at Ember, and she nodded, offering her own hand across the corner of the table. He took it and sighed so hard that his entire posture changed.

  My stomach didn’t just twist—it sank. What was he about to say that had him that flustered?

  He looked up and met my eyes down the expanse of the table. “I was studying in my room that day in Afghanistan when Will walked in with a shit-eating grin and a bag of strawberry cheesecake cookies, asking if I was ready for his area orientation flight. That’s all it was supposed to be. A quick, easy flight.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jackson

  “You can’t be serious,” Morgan drawled as she settled against me on her couch. She fit under my arm like she had been made for that exact spot.

  “It’s a modern classic,” I argued, barely hiding my grin as I hovered the cursor over the buy button on Morgan’s TV. Man, I freaking loved teasing her.

  “I am not watching Sharknado on the only night I get you alone. Nope. Not happening.” She shot me a look that said she meant business as the microwave dinged.

  “Come on, Kitty. It has it all. Action, suspense—”

  “Sharks falling from the sky?” She got off the couch and headed for the kitchen, and I quickly followed after her, shamelessly checking out her ass in those tiny blue shorts. She wore a sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, and with her hair twisted up into a knot, I got a sneak peek at her purple bra strap. There was nothing sexier than when Morgan was fully relaxed at home. Her home. My home. I was game for either.

  I told my dick to behave, but it wasn’t really interested in listening. It had one status when Morgan was in the room, and that was erect.

  She reached into the new microwave and pulled out a freshly popped bag of popcorn. “Grab the M&M’s.”

  I lifted a rather skeptical brow but did as she asked, then slid the package across the gray granite that had been installed in the kitchen almost two weeks ago. Hard to believe it was already the middle of June and even harder to think that I’d only known her for three months. She was a fixture in my world now, and every minute I spent around her only convinced me more that she was a permanent one.

  I hadn’t just fallen for her—I was head over heels in love with her. I’d known it in the hour it had taken Josh to tell her the story of how Will had died. She was the strongest woman I’d ever known, even if she didn’t think so. I loved everything about her, from the way her face formed the expressions of the characters in whatever book she was reading to the determination with which she attacked each day. Hell, I even loved the colorful lesson plans she spent her days constructing, getting ready for the school year to start. I couldn’t think of a single thing I didn’t love about her.

  She dumped the popcorn into a bowl, then poured the M&M’s over it. I wasn’t about to argue with the woman’s choice of snacks, but it was definitely one of the odder things I’d seen.

  “What can I do to help?”

  She flashed a grin. “Just stand there and look pretty.”

  She’d been doing more of that since her friends had come—smiling and teasing. I wasn’t going to go as far as to say that she was healed, and it wasn’t for me to say, anyway, but she had definitely taken a stride in that direction.

  A slim, silver tape recorder caught my eye toward the back of the counter. “What’s this for?” I asked, picking it up so I could show her what I meant.

  She looked up, blanched, and the bowl slipped out of her hands, rattling on the granite for a few seconds before it came to a stop. “It’s for therapy. Please don’t press play.”

  “Okay.” I set it back down carefully. “I wasn’t going to, I promise.”

  “Thank you.” She shook it off and forced a smile. “So, about Sharknado?”

  I laughed, then picked up the bowl. “We can watch whatever you want, Kitty. After all, stay in and veg out was your idea for date night, remember?”

  “Hmmm.” A devilish gleam sparkled in her eye. “What about Jane Eyre? Or Pride and Prejudice?”

  I grimaced but nodded. “Like I said, anything you want.”

  “You’re only saying that because there’s a storm going on and you can’t drag me out to go jetpack surfing or whatever.” She took a couple of pieces of popcorn from the bowl with an M&M. “Open up.”

  I obliged her and then groaned as the mixture of salty and sweet hit my tongue. “Okay. I take back my earlier thoughts and doubts. That’s amazing. And I’ve never heard of jetpack surfing, but I’d be up for trying it,” I teased.

  She rose on her tiptoes and kissed me. It was soft and ended way too soon. There had been a crackling electricity between us since the morning we’d been interrupted in my bedroom. Between my
work hours and Fin’s evolving visitation schedule with Claire, Morgan and I hadn’t been able to find more than an hour or two together, and the awareness between us was nearly painful.

  With Sam at Grayson’s parents’ for the night, we were alone. Actually, truly, completely alone for the entire night.

  We settled back onto the couch, and she flipped through movie options rapidly, as if she didn’t care what we watched, either, because we weren’t really going to be watching it anyway.

  A gust of wind moved the chaise lounge on the deck, and rain fell in sheets against the glass that stretched across the back of her house.

  “Do I need to worry?” she asked.

  “No.” I set the popcorn on the table in front of us and tucked her into my side. “This isn’t bad.”

  “So I can stop waiting for the dune to break?” She peered over as the chaise moved again.

  I kept my laugh well and smothered. “The dune isn’t going to break, Kitty. That would take a hurricane or at least a healthy storm surge.” My cell phone rang, and I grabbed it with my left hand so I wouldn’t have to let go of Morgan, then muttered a curse when the caller ID flashed.

  “Shit. It’s the station,” I told her with a wince. “Sorry, I’m on call.”

  “Well, then, answer it.” She flashed me a smile and clicked on comedies while I swiped to take the call.

  “Montgomery,” I answered.

  “Thank God.” Sawyer’s voice was tight, which immediately set me on edge. “Tell me you’re at your house.”

  “I’m at Morgan’s.” I got up and walked to the windows. We had about an hour until sunset, so I had no problem seeing the massive white caps roiling angrily just beyond our beach.

  “Close enough. A call just came in, the other crew is already engaged, and Hastings just slipped on the fucking deck. I’m pretty sure he broke his leg. Garrett’s looking at him right now.”

  “Is it urgent?” The last thing I wanted was to leave Morgan and haul my ass out into a storm for someone who didn’t actually need my help. Problem was, if they called us, they needed the fucking help.

  “Life threatening. We’ve got a capsizing fishing vessel with two sailors on board. How fast can you get in here?”

  Shit.

  “Run up the bird. I’ll be there in six minutes.”

  “Roger.”

  I ended the call and slid the phone into my pocket. It would take him roughly ten minutes to get the bird through preflight.

  “Don’t go.” The words carried the brittle sound of terror as Morgan reached my side. That same fear manifested in her wide eyes.

  “Kitty, I have to.” I cupped her face. “It sounds like Hastings fell and broke his leg, and Sawyer can’t go out alone. I gotta go save some lives.”

  She ripped her face from my hands and pointed at the sea. “And who exactly is going to show up and save your life? You can’t go out in this!” Her muscles locked and her pupils blew. My stomach twisted. This was bad, and I didn’t have the time to reassure her like she needed. It would have been great if Sam had shown up right about now.

  “I know it looks bad out there, but I’ve flown in far worse.” I had to be out of here in the next ninety seconds. “I will be fine.”

  She shook her head. “No. No. No. The visibility is shit. What do you think the ceiling is? Five hundred feet?”

  I glanced toward the sky. “Probably closer to four—wait, how do you know what a ceiling is?”

  “Because I helped him study during primary!” Her voice pitched to a near shriek.

  Fantastic. My girl was terrified and knew what she was talking about. “Morgan, honey, I’m more than comfortable with four hundred feet, and I’m just fine flying IFR.” Not that I was a fan of having to fly instruments during shit weather, but it was better than letting people die.

  She looked out at the ocean and back to me. “Call the pilot in command. There’s no way this can be approved. Look at it!”

  If I hadn’t known her past, I would have kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door, which was pretty much what I needed to do anyway.

  “I already checked in with him, and the flight’s approved.” I grasped her shoulders lightly, hoping the physical connection would emotionally ground her. “I have to go, and I don’t want to leave you like this, but people will die if I do not leave right now. Do you understand, honey?”

  “Who would approve this?” she cried as the chaise slammed against the window. Perfect fucking timing.

  “Me,” I said as calmly as possible. I was down to twenty seconds, if that. “I’m the pilot in command.”

  Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and it crippled a part of my soul. God, I’d never wanted to be the one who caused that kind of defeat in her.

  “And if I ask you not to? If I ask you to choose your own life over those people out there?” Misery emanated from her so thick I could almost taste it.

  How could you die for them and not live for me? Those were the words she’d screamed at Will’s truck the night I told her I was an SAR pilot.

  I slid my hands to cradle the back of her head. “I’m not choosing their lives over mine. I wouldn’t risk my crew like that. I wouldn’t risk Finley’s future or yours, Morgan. Do you trust me?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Then trust that I won’t put myself in unnecessary danger. I have to go.”

  “Okay.” She swallowed and blinked back tears without letting them fall. “Okay. You go. I’ll…wait here. But don’t expect any popcorn to be left by the time you get back.” Her words shook, but I’d take them. I couldn’t begin to guess what saying them had cost her.

  I yanked her into my arms and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead, then pulled back so I could see those gorgeous brown eyes again. “I love you, Morgan.”

  Her eyes widened even further.

  “I love you more than I can possibly tell you in the next three seconds, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. I will come home to you, I promise. Do you believe me?”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

  I kissed her, hard and quick. “I love you,” I said against her mouth because it felt so fucking good to say the words.

  Then I walked out of Morgan’s house and ran the rest of the way to my car. I was dressed and in the seat thirty seconds after Sawyer finished the preflight. We launched immediately.

  Morgan was right. Ceilings were low and visibility was shit, but I hadn’t lied—I was comfortable flying in it.

  I just didn’t like it.

  And when that fishing boat’s mast came within inches of my tail rotor in those choppy-ass seas and gusting winds, she nearly took us down with her, but there was zero chance in hell I was ever going to tell that part of this story to Morgan.

  Not ever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Morgan

  I want you to be happy. Never forget that.

  I glanced at my phone again and read his text message for the hundredth time.

  Jackson: Landed safe. I’ll be there after debrief.

  The message had come in an hour ago, at which time I’d started breathing again.

  The bowl of popcorn sat untouched on the table, and my book remained unread in my lap. I’d been staring at my wall of windows for the last three hours and twenty-seven minutes, listening to the rain pelt the glass mercilessly.

  I hadn’t even prayed that he’d come home like he promised for the fear that God would notice that I still existed and then take Jackson, too.

  He loved me.

  How could that incredible, kind, frustrating, stubborn, phenomenon of a man love me? How was I supposed to be worthy of that?

  This was it. If I stayed with Jackson and accepted his love, this was what my life would look like. How many hours would I stare at the windows and wait for him to come
home? How many times would he kiss me and walk out the door in those kinds of conditions? How many times would he risk his life?

  At what point would he be on the losing end of that risk?

  At what point would I be?

  But he loved me. Did he expect me to say it back? I was falling for him. I’d already admitted that much, but love? I wasn’t sure I was even capable of that in the way he deserved. Now, if the man was interested in some hardcore infatuation, I could serve that up to him on a platter.

  What was I going to say to him when he walked in that door? Was I really willing to endure this paralyzing fear every day just so I could be with him? If so, did that make me noble? Or really damned stupid?

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I jumped off the couch and raced for the door, not bothering to check the peephole before throwing it open. Jackson stood in the doorway, leaning on the outside of the frame. Humidity from the spent storm rushed at my skin, but at least the rain had stopped.

  Why did he have to be so freaking gorgeous? He stared at me with a mixture of apprehension, joy, and exhaustion, still in his flight suit and boots. Our eyes locked in a wordless conversation, his tone apologetic and mine accusatory and relieved.

  He didn’t ask to come in or profess his love again. He simply stood and waited for my decision. Every cell in my body screamed with longing, demanding I touch him and make sure he was real.

  I should have shut the door. I already walked a fine line between sanity and…well, not, and the last thing my mental health needed was another night like this one. Logic dictated that I reexamine my commitment and then run as fast as I possibly could to the nearest guy with a desk job who would have me.

  But one thing hadn’t changed at my core.

  I was never smart when it came to my heart, and my heart wanted Jackson.

  One step and I had my mouth on his, locked in a kiss that said all I needed to. He didn’t hesitate. In less than a heartbeat, his tongue twined with mine, his hands gripped my ass as he picked me up, and I locked my legs around his waist.

  I heard the door slam, then found my back against the smooth surface. I gripped his hair lightly with one hand, anchored the other one around his neck, and kissed him with everything I had. It was hot, messy, and thick with a primal urgency that sent an avalanche of need barreling through my system.