Eyes Turned Skyward

by Rebecca Yarros

  “So, we are going to rehash New Year’s Eve?” I asked, clarifying.

  “For the love of God, just explain why it is you two idiots decided that beating the crap out of each other during a formal gathering at General Donovan’s house would be acceptable?”

  “He started it,” Cater grumbled.

  Are you fucking serious? “I did.” They both looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Well, I did. I’m not the one who got in the last sucker punch, but I initiated it.”

  Carter looked at the floor momentarily before lifting his head.

  “Is this about the polar bear, or Miss Donovan?”

  “Both,” we answered simultaneously.

  “The only reason your asses aren’t out on your…asses is because General Donovan feels some sort of responsibility, seeing as it’s his daughter.”

  A swift sense of relief swept over me. I wasn’t getting kicked out. Then again, neither was Carter.

  “In light of what’s happened, I think we need to reassign you as stick buddies.” He started flipping through a file on his desk.

  “Sir?” Carter spoke up, no doubt thrilled. Major Davison raised his eyebrows at him, and Carter rushed ahead. “I’d like to keep Bateman. He’s the second best in the class and pushes me, sir.”

  “Second best, my ass,” I snapped without thinking.

  “You two are going to give me ulcers,” Davidson mumbled.

  I couldn’t deny Carter’s logic. Flying with him drove me to fly perfectly and answer every question right, because if I got it wrong, I knew he’d be on my heels with the correct one, ready to show me up at the earliest opportunity. “He’s right,” I spoke slowly.

  Davidson’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not getting a second chance at this. If you can’t make this work, I’m done with both of you. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I answered.

  “Definitely, sir,” Carter chimed in.

  He shook his head, mumbled something about us being more difficult than toddlers, and excused us. We both put on our covers as we walked out onto the flight line, the Alabama sun warding off the January chill.

  “What happened?” Josh asked, jogging over with Grayson.

  “We’re still in,” Carter answered.

  “I didn’t ask you,” Josh snapped.

  Carter scoffed. “Jesus. What the hell is it with you guys? I’m still your class leader, one of the only other lieutenants in our class, and you still can’t—”

  “Can’t what?” Josh interrupted. “Respect someone who has zero sense of loyalty? You wouldn’t last a day in a real platoon.”

  “And what the hell would you know about it?” Carter shot back. “I’ve spent the last four years of my life dedicating myself to the military.”

  Josh shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable.” He flipped Carter off and headed to his assigned helicopter.

  “What?” Carter asked.

  “He’s already got a tour in Afghanistan and a Purple Heart, you fucktard,” Grayson answered. I wasn’t sure what caught me more off guard, Carter having no clue about Josh, or Grayson swearing.

  Carter tensed. “Watch your language.” Apparently for Carter, it was the swearing.

  “Or what?” he added, his massive arms folded across his chest. Grayson wasn’t someone I’d ever want to tangle with, not just because of his size—the guy was impossible to get a read on. “You’ll knock your pretty little ring on the table and act like that entitles you to lead us?”

  “It does!”

  Grayson laughed, sending my holy-shit meter off the charts. “Get over yourself, Carter. You have a West Point education—good for you. But our date of rank is exactly the same, and just because my ring is from the Citadel doesn’t make you any more fucking special.”

  Carter’s jaw dropped, and I found mine in the same state. “Man, you went to the Citadel?” I asked. Holy shit, I really knew next to nothing about him.

  Grayson shrugged his shoulders at me with a definite hint of humor in his eyes, then turned to follow Josh. “Want to know what’s going to kill you now, Carter?”

  “You’re probably going to tell me,” Carter spat back.

  “Wondering which one of us they really asked to be class leader first,” he called over his shoulder.

  Carter deflated like Grayson had stuck a pin in him, and I whistled low. “Damn.”

  “Get to the aircraft, Bateman. Let’s get this run-up started,” Carter said.

  I removed the engine cover and shook my head at the remove before flight flags that marked it. Duh. Carter was quiet as we checked off procedures and volunteered to let me fly first—something he never did.

  As I took off from the airfield, Carter in the backseat, our instructor fired out an easy 5&9 question on fuel limitations. “Carter?” he prompted when he didn’t offer a response.

  For the first time since I’d met him, Carter got the answer wrong.

  Shit. I was going to be late for dinner with Paisley. I pulled into my drive, hitting my brakes so hard that my bag slid off the passenger seat and hit the floorboards. I killed the ignition, grabbed the bag, and made it through the front door in record time, even managing to toss Mrs. King a wave as she made an offhanded comment on the landscaping. Again.

  Lady, it’s February. Hit me up in April, for crying out loud.

  “What’s on fire?” Grayson asked from the kitchen as I kicked the door shut.

  “I’m wicked late,” I yelled on the way to my room. I dropped my helmet bag by my dresser and stripped out of my uniform before throwing open my closet doors. I grabbed the first collared shirt I saw but paused when I saw Paisley’s sweatshirt hanging next to it.

  A wide smile spread across my face, and I stroked my fingers down the sleeve. I liked seeing her stuff there next to mine. The girl was perpetually cold, and it seemed easiest for her to keep a few things here. Like a few sets of clothing, a toothbrush, a hairbrush…that kind of thing. Josh had recommended giving her a drawer or something, but that seemed official, and a little over a month into a relationship wasn’t exactly “official” territory. Then again, what the hell did I know? I’d never been in a relationship before, but I liked it.

  This was the happiest I ever remembered being. I was staying in flight school, still in the race for top of the OML, and I was so in love with Paisley that my heart threatened to jump ship when I thought about her.

  Life was pretty damn perfect.

  I dressed quickly and shoved my wallet into my pocket as I headed down the hallway.

  “You out?” Grayson asked from the dining room, his books covering the table.

  “Yeah. You doing okay?”

  He nodded. “Exams are killing me, but I’ll push through.”

  “Thank God.” I leaned on the table and saw his notes. He gave me a what-the-hell look, and I laughed. “Man, I’ve seen you fly. If you had my photographic memory, you’d be kicking my ass.”

  He grunted. “Yeah, well, I don’t, so I get to study.” He dismissed me, delving into the books.

  “Is your family coming next Monday for Family Day?”

  He didn’t look up. “Just to watch me fly the training helicopter? No. They can’t afford to make the trip twice. They’ll come down when I graduate. Yours?”

  “Fuck no,” I replied instantly.

  He raised his eyebrows at me, looking up. “Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked slowly.

  I laughed. He looked like he was in physical pain. “No, and the answer will always be no, I promise.”

  “Right on.” He dropped his focus to his work. “Have a good time with Paisley. You lucked out there.”

  I caught the longing that snuck into his tone. “Is there someone at home for you?” I asked. “You go home every chance you get, but you don’t really say anything.”

  His jaw flexed, and the grip on his pen tightened. “Want to talk about your family?”

  “No,” I repeated. He looked up, silent, and I got the message. His love life
was like pretty much everything else for this guy—a no-fly zone.

  “Good talk.” I waved, shaking my head as my cell phone rang. Paisley. I smiled as I answered. “Hey, Little Bird, I’m on my way to you.”

  “Hi. I’m sorry to call you so late, but I’m actually not there.”

  “Are you okay?” Panic squeezed my heart. “Are you having an attack?”

  “I’m in Birmingham, but I’m okay. Some routine tests ran late, and the doc wants to run some overnight.”

  “I’m coming,” I answered, headed for my room.

  “Don’t you dare! It’s three hours away, and you have class tomorrow.”

  I pulled down my duffel bag and started throwing enough clothes in it for a couple days, tossing her sweatshirt in for good measure. She’d want it if she had to be stuck there. “I’m coming, Paisley.”

  “Seriously, Jagger. You wouldn’t get here until nine thirty, and that’s not counting traffic. They’re releasing me in the morning.”

  “You don’t want me there?” Holy shit. I was going to be sick.

  “Of course I do.” Her voice was soft. “I just don’t want you driving this late when you won’t be able to see me anyway. Visiting hours are over at ten, and Morgan is already pushing it.” She had Morgan take her, not me.

  “I don’t like you being in the hospital and not getting to see you.” I swallowed; the idea tasted like sand in my mouth.

  “Me, either, I promise. Tell you what. If they keep me another day, will you come?” she asked.

  I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. “Of course. I’ll leave as soon as you tell me I can.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry about dinner. I should have called you earlier. I just didn’t realize how late it’d gotten.”

  “Little Bird, a date is the least of my worries. Are you really feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. I actually feel great, which I think is why he likes to poke at me. Now you’d better study.”

  “I don’t need to study.” I laughed.

  “Go read your books, Jagger. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t get an Apache.”

  “Ooh, you’re sexy when you’re all stern.” And sexy when she laughed, and read a book, and even fucking slept.

  “Don’t you start.” A new set of voices came in through the background. “Jagger, the nurse is here. I have to call you back.”

  “Okay. I love you. Let me know what you need.” I paused, leaving that door open, again.

  “I will. Thank you, honey.” She hung up without walking through it. Again.

  It had been a month since I told her I was in love with her, and she hadn’t said it back. I tried not to let it bother me, but there was this little nagging voice in my head that beat the shit out of my self-confidence every time she left my declaration hanging there solo.

  It also kept me from sleeping with her. She’d been putting out signals that she was more than ready, but apparently I was the chick in this relationship. I wanted the words before the deed. Probably because I’d never had them.

  My phone rang again, and I smiled, answering without looking. “Hey,” I answered. “Change your mind?”

  “Jagger?”

  I checked the caller ID. It was Paul. “Hey, man, what’s going on?”

  “I’ve found her.”

  Anna.

  My perfect life had morphed into fucked up in ten minutes.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jagger

  God, she was worth it the whole time, and she’s worth it now. Let me make myself clear: I choose her over you, and I always will.

  The sky over Chicago was black as the literal midnight it was. I skipped baggage claim and instead found Paul standing near the exit. Easily a head taller than everyone around him and built like a linebacker, he was easy to spot. He shook my hand and gave me a North Face coat, tags attached. This wasn’t our first go-round.

  “You ready?” he asked, taking my duffel bag and lifting it over one of his massive shoulders. Paul was only ten years older than I was, and I’d known him just as long.

  “As ready as I ever am.” He led the way out to his Range Rover, and I climbed into the passenger seat, putting my backpack at my feet.

  He threw my duffel bag in the back and took the driver’s side, pulling out of the airport as I buckled my seat belt. “Did you bring it?”

  I patted the bag between my feet. “Five grand junkie-finder fee, in cash.”

  He whistled. “Is it traceable?”

  “Nope. I earned it all.”

  “Good. Buying the house was risky.” He cut his eyes sideways at me.

  “I’m not going to spend my life scared,” I fired back.

  He cracked a smile. “Good.”

  I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to wake up. He handed me a Red Bull from his cooler compartment, and I accepted gratefully.

  “So you AWOL or something?”

  I shook my head, swallowing the energy drink. “Emergency leave.” Major Davidson had been anything but happy when I’d called him on a Thursday night, but he’d met with me. One look at my face and he’d signed the leave form. I had a week. Just enough time to get her taken care of.

  Just enough time to royally fuck myself in class. I’d take a hit on every assignment, pretty much knocking myself out of first place.

  I pushed flight school out of my head. It was thousands of miles and a world—a life—away. That wasn’t even who I was right now. No, right now I was nothing outside of Anna. Please let this be her. We pulled into a neighborhood I only wanted to see from the air. “Damn,” I muttered, taking in the broken streetlights and rusted-out cars with busted windows.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s a gem,” Paul answered. “Sometimes working for you makes me wish I’d just stayed your bodyguard. At least we didn’t end up in places like this.”

  “Now if we could only keep her out of them.”

  “That’s my prayer,” he answered.

  I gritted my teeth against my usual answer, that in order for a prayer to work, someone had to be listening.

  He parked the SUV outside a dilapidated house that definitely wasn’t setting the high end of market value around here. “Ready?”

  Paul took the small leather pouch from me, slipping it inside his jacket as I zipped mine up. The Chicago air froze the snot in my nose as we walked to the front door. I hated this part, and it didn’t disappoint. My stomach clenched as Paul knocked on the torn screen door.

  The wooden door swung open. “Can I help you?” a voice slurred from inside.

  I sidestepped him to get a look, and cringed. The guy was rail thin and pale, wearing dirty jeans and a ragged henley, but it was his face that jarred me. His cheekbones protruded, and there were open sores along his cracked lips and up one side of his face. “Are you Steve?” I asked.

  “You the guy looking for Anna?” He blinked his droopy eye slowly.

  “Yes.” My pulse pounded.

  “You got the money?”

  I nodded, but Paul answered. “You get it when we get her.”

  He rocked on his heels a couple of times, his eyes darting between us. “Swear you aren’t cops?”

  “We’re not fucking cops!” I snapped. Each second stripped a little more of my civility away, but spooking this guy was detrimental to the goal. “We brought you a nice little present for finding Anna, that’s all.”

  He looked between us again and then opened the screen door, backing away as we walked inside. The living room was empty except for a threadbare couch, the three people passed out on it, and a coffee table cluttered with contents I didn’t want to examine too closely.

  Paul took up position behind me as I followed Steve through a small hallway to a bedroom. He opened the door and flicked the light switch on and off a few times before muttering, “Damn light.” Instead he pulled the string inside the open closet, lighting the room enough to see the huddled mass in the corner, the whiskey-colored hair I knew so well.

  “A
nna.”

  The carpet felt spongy beneath my feet as I stumbled toward the mattress and fell to my knees next to her. Her hair was a stringy, limp mass as I brushed it from her face. It had been a year since we’d done this last, and though it showed, she was still Anna. Her Van Morrison–worthy brown eyes were open, unfocused, but her breathing was steady. “I’m here, Anna, I’m here.”

  “Do I get the money?” Steve asked, bobbing unsteadily in my peripheral vision.

  I nodded, keeping my eyes locked onto Anna. A roach scurried out from the coarse blanket she was under, and I choked back vomit. “Shit!” I ripped the blanket from her and flung it across the room. Her emaciated frame was covered in a barely there pink tank top and a pair of black sweat pants, and her arm—fuck, her arm had a tourniquet banded just above her elbow. I snapped it apart and skimmed my thumb over the track marks that marred her arm. How the hell did she have any usable veins left? “Get my bag,” I ordered Paul—how easily my voice reverted to that tone.

  “You gonna take her?” Steve asked, fingering through the money in the package.

  “Yes.” I couldn’t keep my hands off her face, stroking her hair, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse beneath my fingers.

  “Bag,” Paul said, putting my duffel next to me on the floor. I took out a pair of my socks and put them on her bare feet, cursing that I hadn’t thought to bring her anything. I should be better at this by now.

  I rummaged through the bag for a shirt and grabbed a fist full of maroon—Paisley’s zip-up hoodie. I lifted it to my nose, closed my eyes, and breathed her scent in, clinging to the knowledge that I had someone, something that hadn’t been tainted by this. Paisley. How would someone as good, as sweet as she was, come close to understanding this?

  I put Anna’s arms through the sleeves like a child and zipped it up, covering her. Next, I put my own jacket on her, and then lifted her into my arms. She was sickeningly light. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Jag?” she murmured, her glazed eyes focusing on mine for just that second.

  Every muscle in my face tensed to keep the tears at bay. I was not going to break down, not when there was something to be done. “I’m here. I told you I would come.”