She stiffened.
“See? You get tense every time the subject comes up.” He shrugged. “I … I’ve been quite happy swimming in the shallows—but you … you’ve thrust me into the deep end. And frankly, I’m not sure I can give you what you need. But I want to. I really want to.”
“I appreciate that but …
“No buts. I want you to tell me.”
“You know those things people say after you lose a race?”
It was his turn to stiffen. “Yeah.”
“Those things like ‘there’s always the next race, always next year’ and the like?”
“Yes.”
“It’s like that, Ronan. I don’t want to hear platitudes. Not from you. I don’t want you to tell me how I wasn’t wrong or talk about fate or luck or how it could’ve happened to anyone. The decision I made, the wrong decision, got someone killed. And I don’t know that I’ll ever come to terms with it.”
Her hands were shaking, her expression bleak.
“I would give anything, my life included, to have a chance to redo—”
“But—”
She held up a hand. “So before I tell you the specifics, you have to know there is nothing you or anyone else could say that can make what happened easier to bear.” She stood. “Make coffee. I’ll have a shower. And then I’ll tell you about that night.”
As he watched her retreat into the bathroom he finally understood what she was living through. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
• • •
The hot water streamed over her shoulders. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Of course he wanted to know. What he didn’t want to know was that it had been her fault. He said it wouldn’t make a difference, but it would. Dread crept through her. She wasn’t even sure her family would still love her if they knew the details, and they were required to.
Telling Ronan the truth about the crash would be torture. He held real sway over her heart, and his negative reaction could crush her.
She turned off the water and wrapped herself in the oversized, plush, white towel. Ronan was on the phone when she came out. He was ordering breakfast from the half of the conversation she could hear. She dressed quickly. Now that she had made up her mind to tell him, she wanted to get it over with.
He handed her a cup of coffee and patted the sofa next to him. “I told room service to leave it outside the door.”
“They’ll get used to doing that,” she said with an attempt at a smile. “So we got the call at 1:00 A.M., for an MVA—car accident. Single car, ran off the road, flipped a few times. Drunk, fell asleep, as it turned out.”
“You landed on the highway, at night?”
She nodded.
“That alone sounds dangerous.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “Says the racecar driver.”
“You’ve done a lot of those?”
“In my three years working EMS? Dozens. The difference this time was that we were supposed to get weather.”
“Storms?”
“No, fog, low clouds. I check the forecast before we all go to bed—we sleep in a big trailer at the base, then I check again if we get a call. Besides the official sources for weather, I have three weather apps on my phone.”
“Right.”
“So the radar wasn’t clear, but the direction we were going it looked to be okay. And that’s all I really needed to know. We could always wait to come back to base. I took the call and woke my nurse, Julie, and Steve.”
“The paramedic, right?” He stared at her. “Did you have feelings for him?” he asked.
“No. God, no. Nothing like that. I liked him. He was a good guy. A really good guy.”
“Go on.”
“It was a typical scene call. I put her down on the highway, no problems. The kid was in bad shape. Lots of fractures, internal injuries, and a punctured lung. They got him as stable as they could, and we got out of there.”
“Did you help?”
“With treating him? No, that’s not part of my job. The pilot doesn’t do the medical stuff. I might carry things, but I don’t help. We got the kid to the hospital; it was touch and go a few times. I’ve learned to tune all that out and just concentrate on flying. And my nurse and Steve were a good crew—they never panicked, argued, or freaked out in my headphones.” She smiled. “They made a terrific team.” Her smile disintegrated as she remembered how quiet things had gotten later that night.
“That leg was uneventful. I checked the weather again while they took him into the hospital. There were some clouds, but the radar looked good to go—I saw a few warnings about low lying clouds in the areas west of our path, but figured we had time. It was only an hour from the hospital to base.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Leave it,” Ronan called out.
She held her head in her hands, her heart racing. She willed away the panic with deep breaths, ignoring the fact that he was staring at her. After a moment, she continued. “So we headed back. Thirty minutes from base, I flew into a cloud.”
That was the danger inherent with the night vision goggles. You could be flying along completely unaware you had reduced visibility and then bam! Blind.
“And that’s when everything went wrong,” she said.
“Don’t you have instruments or—?”
“Yes. I’m instrument rated. We learn how to fly in the clouds wearing an opaque hood, but that’s a whole other thing. Going suddenly into a no-visibility situation—there aren’t instruments to tell you where the hills and trees and power lines and—anyway. So when it happens, there’s a certain procedure you’re supposed to follow. I didn’t follow it.”
“What did you do?” he asked, gently.
“I turned around, a 180-degree turn, back out the way I’d gone in. Pure instinct.”
“And that’s not what you’re supposed to do?”
“No. There’s a procedure for sudden loss of visibility due to weather—it’s called an inadvertent instrument meteorological condition. I’m supposed to climb to a high enough altitude to be out of danger of obstacles, reach air traffic control to confess my problem, communicate understanding of their instructions, and comply with their guidance to the closest place to land—the four C’s. It’s drilled into us in training.”
“Right, and instead you turned and headed out the way you came in, where you could see?”
“Thought I could see. And as it turned out, I could—initially. I could see enough to put her down. And then I couldn’t. The ceiling was dropping fast, and I went for it. We were out in a remote area. Visibility was worse by the second. It was a good landing, a bit hard, but I didn’t realize how unstable the ground was or that there was a slight elevation. It was night, difficult to see, even with goggles. I … I put down, and one skid wasn’t stable, but I was already flipping everything off to prevent a fire—fire is the big danger, you see,” she said, dully. “But the ground didn’t hold under the skid. We flipped left, and that side of the aircraft was crushed. We slid, on our side, down the slope. It happened so fast. The rotors … and my medic was the only one …”
Ronan handed her a glass of water, and she took a sip.
“I pulled off my headphones; we had to get out.”
He nodded.
“Julie was talking, so I was pretty sure she was okay, but Steve … he wasn’t.”
She covered her mouth. Was she going to be sick?
“He was in bad shape,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her abdomen, rocking. “That side of the aircraft had been crushed—crumpled …”
He attempted to put an arm around her, but she pulled away, shrinking into herself. “We managed to get him out—I don’t like to think about it. He was in a lot of pain. After we dragged him a safe distance away, Julie went back and grabbed her kit, which was incredibly brave. He was … you have to understand; we’ve seen a lot of bad accidents, a lot of injuries. And we knew. He wasn’t talking; he couldn’t … just gas
ping. Julie started the IV and pushed pain meds.”
“Did they help?”
“He died within minutes. I’d like to think the pain was easing when he died.”
“He didn’t say anything?”
“One of the things I learned on the job is that when people are dying, they don’t have these profound things to say. They’re in pain, or shock, and it’s not like in the movies.”
The tiny muscles around Ronan’s eyes tightened, and he stared at her, not blinking for what seemed like a long time. Then he looked down at his hands. “Yes, yes, of course not—”
She pressed her palms together tightly, watching his reaction. “So now you know.”
“It doesn’t sound to me like you did anything that wrong.”
“Ronan. I told you, the four C’s.”
“How do you know the outcome would’ve been any better?”
“I don’t know anything for sure, but they have to fire me; they’re right in firing me. I didn’t follow protocol.”
“What about your license?”
“No clue. Suspension? Revocation? Does it really matter? I can’t fly anyway.” She sighed and looked out the window. “Not with my panic attacks.”
“It doesn’t change anything,” he said, taking her clammy hand. “In case you were worried that it would. It certainly doesn’t change my feelings for you.”
And what would those be?
Chapter 14
Ronan pulled up in front of her childhood home and put the car in park.
“This could be incredibly awkward,” Cass said.
Ronan raised an eyebrow at her. “Meeting the parentals usually is.”
She laughed. “That? No—well, there is that, I guess, but this is a whole other level of awkwardness. My stepfather, Jim, has been pressuring me to get back in the cockpit. Back on the horse, so to speak.”
“Does he know?” Ronan asked, softly.
“About my panic?” She shook her head. “You’re the only one who knows about that.”
Despite his nervousness at meeting her family, the idea that she trusted him, that she’d shared what he figured was part of her ongoing psychological difficulty coping with the accident, sent warmth through his chest.
“Shall we go in and let the hostilities commence?” he asked, taking her hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
Ronan stood back as Cass greeted her mother, Tricia, in the entryway. He shook hands with the stepfather, Jim, a stocky, mustached man with a handshake like a vice, and then turned to Tricia, a neat, still-beautiful woman in her early sixties with the same worry lines across her forehead as Cass’s, only deeper. Anderson appeared in his peripheral vision.
Cass gave her mother’s shoulders a final squeeze and reached for Ronan, guiding him down the hall toward Anderson. He watched her gaze track the beer in Anderson’s hand.
“Beer, Cass?” Jim asked.
Cass shook her head, and Ronan exchanged a look with Anderson, who looked as relieved as he felt. “Coffee,” she said, “if you have it.”
“We always have it, hon. Jim gave me one of those fancy pod machines for my birthday. I’ve got chai, flavored teas—”
“Plain black would be just fine,” she interrupted.
“Ronan?” her mother turned to him with a smile.
“I’ll get you a beer,” Jim said, already heading into the kitchen.
“Great, thanks.” Ronan forced a grin.
Cass followed Jim and Tricia into the kitchen, leaving him with Anderson in the hallway.
“She okay?” Anderson asked in a low tone.
“Yes, she’s fine,” he replied. She wouldn’t thank him for discussing things with her father. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. “How are you keeping?”
“Me?” Anderson took a step back and half a beat passed before understanding registered on his face. “Oh, yes. Her mother and I get along fine. We’ve had years to bury the hatchet—and it is buried—in a shallow grave.” He smiled ruefully. “I’m just hoping it doesn’t get unearthed today.”
Ronan grunted.
“Is she … how’s the … um.”
“Drinking?”
The older man nodded.
“Not much.”
Her father’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I’m not saying she’s an alcoholic or anything, just … it’s never been bad before. Well, maybe in high school. I don’t know. I wasn’t around.”
“She’s finding other ways to cope,” Ronan said smoothly.
Her father examined him, then cleared his throat. “Yes, well. Good. You’re good for her.”
Ronan took a swig of his beer. American crap. He put it on an end table.
“And you, Ronan? I can’t tell you how impressed I’ve been with your team and your driving this season.” Anderson gave him a hearty thump on the back. “Still on course to win it all.”
“Yes.”
Raised voices drifted in from the kitchen.
Anderson sighed. “That didn’t take long, did it? Cass and Jim were always at loggerheads. I’ve heard the teenage years were a horror show.”
“I’ll go check on—”
“I’m coming with you.”
Cass was standing with her back to him, her posture defensive.
Ronan went up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, her cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed with anger.
“Jim, I’m not going to keep telling you. Butt out!”
“Honey, all Jim is trying to say is that you need to get a new job, now, before you, before the … Jim lined something up with a tour operator in Vegas. The least you can do is go out there—”
“Mom, Jim, I’m not discussing this with you.” This time when Ronan reached for her hand she clung to it. “I can’t fly right now.”
“But you have to,” Jim insisted.
“She can’t.” Anderson said forcefully from the entryway.
All eyes turned to him.
“Stop harassing her about it. Jim, I understand your motivations, truly I do. But she’s an adult and this is her decision.”
“Anderson, this isn’t any of your business. I know you mean well. And it’s good that she was able to take a break, put the … incident behind her. But now she needs a job. You don’t understand aviation. You don’t know that if she waits until the report comes in, she won’t have an opportunity—”
“Don’t speak to my father that way,” Cass said, her voice deceptively soft. “He’s given me more than you could possibly understand these last few weeks.”
Jim took a step back, his complexion a mottled red. “I’m trying to help you, Cass.”
Cass straightened and pulled her hand from Ronan’s grip. “I get that. But you can’t.”
“Cass, if you just—” Jim started.
“I can’t fly!” she yelled.
There was dead silence.
“My God, Jim. You don’t get it. You really don’t get it. It’s not like riding a horse, just get back on. I killed someone.” She rubbed her forehead. “I killed someone,” she repeated, dully.
Her mother choked on a sob.
“So your confidence is shaken,” he said calmly.
She glanced at Ronan helplessly, shaking her head, her hands clenched into fists.
He met her gaze, his heart breaking for her. Should he step in here? She seemed to be holding her own, and this was her family.
Jim waved a hand in dismissal.
“Oh, honey.” Her mother wrapped her arms around the taut figure of her child. But Cass held herself stiffly, not relaxing into the embrace.
Ronan’s gaze moved to Jim. His face was set in stubborn lines. Cass had known he wouldn’t accept this. And yet she’d still come here today. Subjected herself to this—his fierce disapproval, his persistence. Maybe this kind of attitude had worked on a troubled adolescent. But his pressure would never—and should never—work on an adult woman. Certainly not one like Cass who knew
her own mind more than most people he’d ever met.
Anderson was half right. They were both stubborn achievers. That much was obvious. They set high standards for themselves and everyone around them, but that was where the similarities ended. Cass was idealistic, introspective, and sensitive beneath the confidence. And fully aware, now at any rate, that this accident would be something she’d always regret, always think about.
“I pulled strings to get you that interview and test flight next weekend.”
“And I told you, repeatedly, not to do it.” Her spine straightened, and she met her stepfather’s glare with a calm expression, belied only by the hand squeezing the life from Ronan’s again.
She turned to her mother. “Mom, Ronan and I can’t stay.”
Jim spun on his heel and left the kitchen through the garage door, slamming it on his way out.
“No, honey, please.” Tears tracked down her mother’s face. “Please stay. I’ll talk to him.”
“No.”
She gave her mom a hug.
Anderson stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Should I?”
“Whatever you want.” Cass said, reaching up to hug him. “I’ll see you in Austin. Okay? And Dad?” She shot him a look of appreciation. “Thanks.”
• • •
Her eyes were burning, but she would not cry. Ronan started the car without a word, and they’d made it four blocks before she managed to say, “I’m sorry, Ronan. That was ugly and embarrassing.” Her throat so thick with tears she could barely speak.
He pulled the car to the curb in a move that made her throw a hand out to the dash to catch herself, put the car in park, and pulled her awkwardly across the console and into his warm body.
“Fuck,” she choked out.
His hand gently stroked through her hair and down her back. She tried to tug away, but he didn’t seem to want to let her go. Gradually one muscle after another in her face, her neck, her shoulders started to unclench in his warm embrace. He lifted her chin with a finger, wiped a few tears from her cheeks. “I’m in awe of you, you know.”
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