The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “It has been.” She slid her phone in front of her, swiped it open, and thumbed through her media. “Now listen. I only have this because I was an idiot and thought I was supposed to record it. But when you stand there all frustrated, preaching at her that you’ll be fine and it’s only three months of a beach vacation? This is what goes through her head.” She tapped her phone, and Morgan’s voice came through again.

  “I’m…in the grocery store—” Holy shit, she sounded broken. Every word was a struggle. “—picking out a jar of jam, and my phone rings.” She gasped, sucking in air. “It’s Sam,” she cried with a sob.

  I braced my head in my hands as my eyes fluttered shut. Like I could somehow block out her pain if I didn’t see the fucking phone.

  “She…she…” Her breath was ragged. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

  “You can, Morgan. You just have to get through it once today. Go as far as you can,” a soothing voice sounded. That had to be her therapist.

  “Sam said that there was a crash.” Another pause. “And our friends are hurt.”

  “Have some water,” the therapist suggested.

  “Thank you.” Another pause. “And Will…he didn’t make it.” Her sobs crush my soul, my ego, my very foundation. “He’s dead. He’s only been there three days, and he’s gone.” She cried so hard my eyes burned, and when I glanced at Sam, she was swiping away her tears.

  “I can’t listen to this,” I snapped.

  “If she could get through it, so can you,” she retorted.

  I locked my jaw as my legs began to fidget, looking for any action I could take to lessen Morgan’s pain.

  “And…and…” She sucked in a harsh breath. “I drop the jar and it shatters, but who cares? Will is dead. Will! My Will! And I can’t breathe! How am I supposed to breathe?” She screamed that last word, and I felt it reverberate in every cell of my body. The gasp she took was familiar, and I tensed every muscle in my body as I heard it. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” The chant went on another ten seconds before the therapist jumped in to help with the anxiety attack, and the tape stopped.

  Sam pocketed the phone and wiped her cheeks again.

  Defeated. Drained. Heartbroken. I couldn’t put a finger on which emotion trumped the rest. “I love her,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, I know you do. And beneath all this that’s swimming in her head? I think she loves you, too. And you can be as mad as you want to be that she’s shut you out, as long as you understand that it has nothing to do with what she feels for you and everything to do with self-preservation so she doesn’t become her”—she lifted her phone—“again.”

  “So I’m just supposed to do what? Walk away from the woman I love?” I lifted my head. “Because that’s not in my nature. What we have is something worth fighting for, and I’m climbing into the ring, ready to take the punches, but she’s already left the arena.”

  Sam sighed and rubbed her forehead, then glanced at her wedding ring. “The truth is I’m torn. I honestly think she needs you just as much as you need her. I…” She shook her head and muttered something to Will. “I think you’re her match. But I also know that you are jumping up and down on the biggest trigger she has.”

  “I can’t help it. If I could do anything about this, trust me, I would.”

  “I know that, too.” She stood and put everything back in her bag. “Which is why I’m telling you that it’s not going to be enough for you to fight for her. You’re going to have to fight her, too. And that might be more than you can take.”

  I got up to walk her to the door, then stared through the storm glass at Morgan’s house. She was in there, right now, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Or could I? “I can take it,” I told Sam. “Whatever she dishes out, I can take. Now, during the deployment, and after. I’m all in.”

  She studied me, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “But how am I supposed to love her without triggering her right now? Because I don’t want her on the ground for the next three months.” I never wanted to hear the voice on that tape again.

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Show up, but don’t force her hand. Morgan’s the long game.”

  “No, Morgan’s the endgame.”

  Sam chuckled, dug through her bag, and pulled out a clear package with…

  “Are those knee pads?” What the hell?

  She pushed them into my chest. “I was told by the guys that if you were willing to fight, you’d need these. It’s basically your invitation to the boys’ club. We’ll back you up as much as we can.” She winced as I took the pads. “And sorry about the door last week. I owe Morgan, and she called it in. Honestly, I’m only here because I remember those months without Grayson, and it would have been a lot easier if we’d just communicated.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “I thought he was in love with his ex-comatose ex-girlfriend. Long story.”

  “Apparently.”

  “Be safe, Jax. She might have thrown you out, but all of that girl’s happiness is wrapped up in you making it home. No matter how safe you think you’re being—be safer. You understand?”

  “I understand.”

  She hugged me and walked out the front door. “Oh, and Morgan has an appointment tomorrow to have some sea glass set in a bracelet.”

  I blinked. “Okay?”

  “It’s at Christina’s at eleven thirty a.m., which to my understanding is five hours before you’re due to show at the hangar for deployment.”

  I grinned. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “Don’t fuck this up, Jax.”

  I wasn’t going to.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Morgan

  These months are going to fly by. I promise. And then it’s you and me.

  “It would look good in platinum,” Christina mused, laying out the small pieces of sea glass on her lightboard as we stood in the workroom at the back of her shop.

  “Or gold?” I suggested, fingering the pendant around my neck. Jax and I might be done, but it felt wrong to take it off.

  “It would definitely match your necklace,” she said with a nod. “You know, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry Jax has to go.”

  I stilled.

  “Peter is so angry that they won’t let him wait for an upslip there. He knows…what this is costing you two, and we’re both very sorry.” She squeezed my hand.

  Trying—and failing—to neatly box the pain of losing Jax, I brought my eyes to hers. “It’s not your fault.”

  “You two would still be together if Peter hadn’t slipped on that deck.” She bit her lower lip.

  “Christina, don’t. Whether it was this…trip or the next, it was bound to happen. Getting out now just makes it hurt less than later.” My smile was shaky and fake as hell, but she didn’t call me on it.

  “Well, I still feel like shit about it. You two have something very real, and I love you both. So I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.” She patted my hand and headed for the door that led to the showroom of her shop. “You know, I have just the clasp that will hold this together for you. Give me a second and I’ll grab it from the display.”

  “Clasp? But we didn’t even decide what metal—”

  She closed the door, and I heard the audible click of a lock. What in the actual hell?

  The back door that led to the parking lot opened, and Jackson walked in.

  My heart jumped, like someone had used the paddles to get a rhythm back. I’d missed this man so much that I wasn’t sure I was still a complete person.

  He closed the door behind him but didn’t throw the lock. Instead, he faced me and leaned back against it, which pretty much felt like the same thing. His face was clean-shaven, his baseball hat was on backward, and his MIT T-shirt stretched across muscles I knew all too well. Every single part of him looked goo
d enough to eat, but his eyes…those brought me to my knees. They were red-rimmed and swollen. He looked haunted.

  “I thought you left today,” I said, breaking the silence but not the tension.

  “Five hours,” he answered, tucking his hands in his pockets.

  “Finley?”

  “Claire and Brie took her up to the water park. Figured keeping her busy would be best. We…” He swallowed. “We said our see-you-laters this morning to make it easier on her.”

  “I’m so sorry.” That explained the swollen eyes. My heart ached for him.

  “Thanks. I put your number in her cell phone. She asked for it. The phone’s only for deployment, so we can FaceTime, and I doubt she’ll bother you—”

  “It’s fine. I’ll pick up whenever she needs me.” I missed Finley just as much as I missed Jackson, and I hadn’t been prepared for that. Hadn’t been prepared for any of this.

  He pushed off the door and came toward me but stayed on the opposite side of the line of worktables that divided the small room in half.

  My gaze flew to the door.

  “You can leave at any time. I’m not trying to trap you. Just talk to you,” he said softly, bracing his palms on the table between us.

  “Nothing’s changed.” It couldn’t. It didn’t matter how I felt about the incredible man standing in front of me. Survival had to be my first priority.

  “I know.” He nodded, a slight smile curving his kissable lips as his eyes dropped to the necklace he’d given me. “I didn’t really get a chance to talk last time. And while you’re free to walk out that door any second you see fit, I’m really hoping you’ll give me five minutes.”

  “Five minutes?” My pulse jumped. Five minutes with this man was dangerous to my heart, but didn’t I owe him that? Hell, I owed him far more. “And you stay on that side of the table?”

  If he touched me, I’d be a goner.

  “Five minutes, and I stay on this side of the table,” he agreed.

  “Deal.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, wishing I’d worn it up today.

  “I love you, Morgan.” He nailed me with those eyes, and his words shattered what little defenses I had against him.

  “Jackson, don’t,” I whispered as my heart thudded to life.

  “Five minutes.” He lifted the corner of his mouth into a sinfully sexy smirk.

  Ugh. I nodded.

  “First, I have a really bad habit of not telling you things first, so I’m telling you that Claire is living at my house with Finley while I’m gone.”

  I sucked in a breath, and that heartbeat that had started slugging its way to a dependable rhythm stuttered. Ten days. It had only taken ten damned days.

  “Kitty, it’s not what you think, and damn, that face is making me want to jump this table and hold you, but I made a promise, so I won’t. Claire and I aren’t together. We’ll never be together. She’s living at my place so Fin can keep her life as normal as possible. Plus, Juno raked her claws down Vivian’s couch, so that option is off the table.”

  I smiled, then pressed my lips between my teeth so he wouldn’t get encouraged.

  “She’s moving out when I get back. It’s just for Finley, and it’s probably the most maternal decision she’s ever made…after moving back. But now you know, so you won’t be shocked when she’s coming down the stairs or asking to borrow sugar…not that she bakes. You’ll probably see a ton of takeout.”

  I glanced toward the clock and raised my eyebrows. You’re using your five minutes, Jackson.

  “You’re right. Morgan, I love you. Taking a three-month trip isn’t going to change that. I’m not sure a lifetime would change that, honestly.”

  My eyes widened and my stomach tightened, but there was no anxiety…at least not yet. If it came to that, I was going to have to leave for my own good. He didn’t use the D word.

  “And I understand why you had to end this, and I don’t blame you for choosing your own health. You’ve earned every inch of ground you’ve gained, and it would kill me to take that from you. I never want to be the cause of your pain.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, knowing I was now the cause of his.

  Weren’t we just a pair?

  “You told me that if I loved you, I would walk out the door and wouldn’t come back. But the truth is that I love you enough to walk out the door and come back.”

  My breath hitched.

  “You can give me up. That’s okay. My love is strong enough to carry us both through this.” He leveled a look on me that said he was completely serious, and despite every plea my brain sent my heart, my posture softened. Defenses gone. His eyes flared, and he took a quick breath. “I’m not giving you up.”

  “I’m sorry?” My eyebrows reached for the sky. “That’s not your choice to make.”

  “Five minutes.” He pointed to the clock.

  I folded my arms under my breasts and felt no small satisfaction when his eyes followed and heated. Ten days hadn’t squashed the chemistry between us. If anything, it apparently had the same effect as a starvation diet—I was ravenous. Hungry but not stupid enough to take the cheese from a time-delayed trap.

  He looked at the ceiling, and I could almost see him count to five before he locked eyes with me again. “Right. Back to the point. I’m not giving you up, Morgan. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever, if I have my way.”

  I scoffed and narrowed my eyes. Didn’t he realize kidnapping was illegal?

  “I’m leaving on a trip in five hours, and as far as I’m concerned, I still have a girlfriend. And in case you’re missing the point, that girlfriend is you.” He grinned, and my body temp rose. Damn it. “You think I’m leaving on this trip and I’m not going to come back.”

  I swallowed and shoved the panic as far away as I could.

  “So you think that if you don’t love me—if we’re not together while I’m on this trip—you’ll save yourself the heartache of that possible future.”

  Bull’s-eye.

  “And I understand that, too. If you want to shove that love you don’t feel for me into a little box and file it away in your emotional basement so you can survive these next three months, then be my guest. It’s not like I get a say anyway, right?” His words were at odds with the smirk he wore. “So fine, file me away, Kitty. Live your life. Start your new job. Finish up your therapy and heal. But just like I can’t make you stay with me, you can’t stop me from loving you.”

  The man was insane. Maybe he was the one who needed therapy if he couldn’t see that I was rejecting him. Are you, though? Nice necklace.

  “So that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to love you so hard that three months will be a pencil dot on our timeline.”

  Mercy.

  “I’m going to love you so well that you’ll never doubt that I choose you. Every day. Every situation. I choose you.”

  I melted. I’d waited a lifetime for those very words.

  “I’m choosing you today by telling you that your well-being is more important than my ego or my need for reassurance. I’ll choose you every single day that I’m gone, every mission that I fly, every second that I breathe. You don’t have to be with me. I’ll be with you.”

  I swallowed. “And what if I start seeing someone else?” Not that I was going to. Jackson was it for me. That’s what made this whole thing so fucking impossible.

  “Five. Minutes.” He pointed to the minute remaining on the clock, and the pulse leaped in his neck. His knuckles whitened, and his jaw ticked twice. “If you want to see someone else, then I guess that’s your prerogative, seeing as you’re single.”

  Well, that hadn’t been the response I’d expected. Did that mean he—

  “As for me, I have a girlfriend I love more than life, so the only action I’ll be getting is this hand”—he raised his right—“fueled by your picture
and enough memories of making love to you to last way longer than three months. You don’t have to be mine. I’m yours.”

  My lips parted and my thighs buzzed. Stupid sex drive.

  “And you’d better tell whatever guy you date to be prepared for a fight, because the minute I get off that plane, I’m coming straight for you. When I tell you that I’m coming home, I mean it. And, Morgan, you. Are. My. Home.” His eyes churned with longing and resolve.

  Fuck my life, he was breaking down my own resolve.

  He glanced at the clock. Ten seconds. His eyes raked over me like he was memorizing every detail of my face and body. I couldn’t help but do the same to him. This was it. He was leaving.

  “I choose you. And if I have to let you lose me so you can save yourself, then I’ll hold on enough for the both of us. That’s how much I love you.”

  Time was up.

  He gave me one last, longing look and walked toward the door. My heartbeat matched the rhythm of his steps. What if this was really it? The last time I saw him? What if I never had the chance to hold him again? To see the light in his eyes when he smiled or the way his lips formed the words I love you? What if this was the last…everything?

  My soul screamed in protest and ripped her claws into whatever was left of my defenses.

  “Jackson!” I cried out as his hand reached the doorknob.

  He turned, and everything I felt was so clearly etched on his own face that I whimpered.

  “Kiss me.”

  He jolted forward but froze when I lifted a finger.

  “This doesn’t change anything. We are not together. And I know that makes this a really selfish, really screwed-up request. But…this trip…” I blocked out the D word and lifted my chin. “I want one last kiss.” My hand fell to my side.

  “This isn’t our last kiss.” In four strides, his hands were in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

  Home. Everything in my body sang at his touch. He felt so right under my fingertips as they laced behind his neck.

  I opened under him, then moaned as his tongue curled around mine with swirling, deft strokes. He kissed me so thoroughly, so deeply, that I couldn’t remember why I’d ever stopped. Every time he moved to soften the kiss, to pull back or pause, I kissed him harder, pulled him closer. This couldn’t end. Not yet. Not while I felt alive and whole.