Eyes Turned Skyward

by Rebecca Yarros

  I took another sip and looked up at the flat screen. Go figure, there was my father on CNN at his first official reelection campaign rally. I ignored it until they flashed our last family picture, Mom included—never a good sign. “Can you turn it up?”

  The bartender rolled her eyes but did it.

  With the music playing, it took all my concentration to hear my father.

  “…and I’ll say it again: I respect the wishes of my children to live private lives outside the microscope of the press.” I just appear randomly and destroy them.

  “So we won’t be seeing them during the campaign?”

  “No, I won’t be trotting them out to smile for the cameras. I chose this life. They did not. I can say that I’m sincerely proud of the strong, independent adults they’re growing into. Of course, all that credit goes to my late wife. Now, how about we talk about this spending bill?”

  Par for the course. Exemplary politician and a shit father. I tuned him out for the rest of the segment and put away two more beers in the next thirty minutes.

  My keys disappeared off the bar, and I didn’t need to look to know that it was Josh. “Grayson’s got dinner waiting at home. Why don’t we get some food in you?”

  “How fucking domestic.” I laughed and finished off the longneck. “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

  “We have our final check rides tomorrow. A bar is the last place we need to be.”

  “Then leave.” I motioned for another beer, and the bartender complied.

  Josh took the bar stool next to me and started peeling the label off my discarded bottle. “Jagger, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. There’s no chance I’m leaving.”

  “Yeah, well, all I did was suggest aviation. My dad pulled the strings to get us in, right? I don’t even fucking belong here. I wasn’t good enough to get in on merit, and sure as hell wasn’t good enough for…” Shit, it felt like I’d sliced open my heart to bleed out internally. I couldn’t even say her damn name out loud. Yeah, numb was better.

  He watched me for a few moments before breaking the six-day-old ice. “You know she loves you.”

  “I know.”

  “You love her.”

  “Yep.” Even after the vicious shit she’d pulled, I couldn’t stop myself. Because something about the way she’d snapped just wasn’t right, wasn’t her. Then again, seventeen unanswered text messages, six voice mails, and a flat-out refusal to come to the phone when I called her hospital room wasn’t exactly sending any another message.

  “Then it’s going to be okay. It sucks right now, but you’ll find a way to work it out.”

  I slammed the bottle onto the counter, which was better than punching something like I wanted. “What kind of world do you live in now, Josh? Fairy tales and fucking unicorns? I couldn’t be happier that you and Ember are perfect, that you make it work, but guess what? It doesn’t work out for everyone. She might love me, but she doesn’t want me.”

  “Then go beg.”

  “I’ve tried!”

  “Try harder.”

  “This isn’t the same as you and Ember. You had months to work your shit out. I have days. It’s not the same, and I’m not you!”

  “No, you’re better, and a hell of a lot stronger than I am. What? You don’t think I know about my mom’s medical bills?”

  Shit. “How long have you—”

  “A year. Now shut the fuck up and let me talk. It’s not the money, it’s the time it took you to track everything down and then cover the tracks so I wouldn’t know. You’re the only reason I could afford to stay in college, and therefore the only reason I have Ember. I’ve never known anyone as fucking stubborn as you are, and I get it now, seeing how you grew up. So use it to your advantage.”

  “I can’t sit by and watch her kill herself.” I cleared my throat after my voice broke, and ran my thumb absently over the inked letters on my arm.

  Josh saw the motion. “C to G. Cradle to grave. I know all about the promise you made to Anna, and I know you think this is just like her, or your mom, but it’s not. Paisley can’t control this condition or make it stop. This isn’t something she can quit, and there’s no right decision. You’re not right. She’s not right. But you have to ask yourself, if you don’t stand by her now, can you live with yourself later?”

  The beer turned sour in my mouth as his implications hit me. What if something happened to Paisley and I wasn’t there? “How did everything get so fucked up? A week ago I had everything I wanted.”

  “Man, she’s still Paisley. You’re still you. This shit isn’t too far gone. Go Tuesday after selection. We’ll be done by one, and you could be in Birmingham by four.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” General Donovan interrupted, sliding onto the empty stool next to me. He flagged the bartender. “Can I get a seven and seven?”

  “Sir.” I tensed as the bartender jumped to fill his order.

  “Relax,” he ordered. “What? You’ve never seen a general in a bar before?” A ghost of a smile tripped over his lips as he sipped at the drink.

  “Not this one, sir,” I answered.

  “Well, I wasn’t always a general. I used to be a butter-bar lieutenant chasing after a sweet little southern thing who preferred the seat at the very end.” He took another swallow, and I almost fell off my stool when Josh elbowed me in the ribs. Asshole. “Are you going to ask me about her or not?”

  Hell, yes. “How is she?”

  He angled on his stool to face me. “Heartbroken, both literally and figuratively, but she’s stable. Morgan’s staying with her tonight.”

  Heartbroken. I’d had my hand in both. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Jagger, I was outside that room and heard every word. She threw everything but the kitchen sink at you, and she got what she wanted.”

  “What exactly was that, sir?”

  “To push you away. She knows she’s not exactly free of complications.”

  My beer hit the bar a little too hard. “Her complications don’t matter to me. I will take her, heart whole or chest cracked wide open. Didn’t she trust me to stay?”

  “Hell, yes, son. She knew you would. You’re her biggest blessing and her worst nightmare. She doesn’t want to be the reason you don’t get your aircraft or graduate.”

  “She destroyed me,” I whispered, looking down into my bottle like it had the answers.

  “She thinks she saved you, and then to get blindsided by Peyton’s secret… Well, you two have some damnable timing. I wouldn’t normally meddle—I’m not her mother—but I don’t think she can do this without you, or the fight you bring out in her.” A wry smile lifted the corner of his lips. “You bring her to life.”

  I kept my face straight, as professional as I could. This wasn’t the guy to lose my temper on.

  “You don’t agree?” he asked.

  “Sir, I’m sitting in a bar, discussing my love life with the commanding general of the post. Let’s not pretend this isn’t awkward.” Josh nearly spit out his ice water next to me, but I ignored him.

  “I only see a dad talking to the guy his daughter is in love with,” he answered. “Look, you two are like super magnets—it doesn’t matter what’s between you, you’re still drawn to each other. I saw it from the first time she said your name. I hated it then, but I’m thankful for it now.” He swirled the ice in his nearly full glass. “Now, are you ready for that final check ride in the morning?”

  “Keeping tabs on all the flight school students, sir?” Josh asked with a grin.

  He placed his hand on my shoulder. “Just the ones in my family. You need to know that you got through to her. She’s going ahead with the pacemaker; we’re just waiting for a date.”

  “What? She did? Thank God.” Relief nearly took me to my knees, but a pit grew in my stomach. Paisley had been more than adamant. “What changed? How does she feel about the decision?”

  “She’s quiet,” General Donovan answered. “Quiet is better than dead, rig
ht?”

  I nodded but couldn’t say the same. What was wrong with me? I’d pushed her for this, so why did it feel like I’d lost something?

  “Walker, take him home. Oh, and I didn’t tie your class rank to his. That threat was just to scare the crap out of you.”

  “Well, it worked.” Thank you, Go— Yeah. I might have screwed my own rank, but I hadn’t tanked my friends’.

  He laughed, which scared me more than the original threat. “Right. Well, two things. The first is that she’s in room 824 at Birmingham.”

  I looked away. First he told me to stay the hell away from his daughter, and now I was basically being ordered to her bedside when she clearly didn’t want me there. “Second?”

  He leaned forward, clearly changing into general mode. “I’ve known your father for years. I actually happen to think he’s an asshole. An influential asshole, but the same.”

  “Sir—”

  “All that goes to show you, Lieutenant Bateman, is that you’re not a measure of the people you come from or how you grew up, but who you’ve chosen to be.” His voice dropped. “Knowing Senator Mansfield, I can say you are your own man.” I flinched. “Fathers want the best for their children. I can tell you that it only took a phone call to get both Peyton and Will an appointment for West Point, but I also know that your father made no such phone call to get you into flight school. I checked, Jagger. You got here on your own, as a Bateman, not a Mansfield, and for what it’s worth, I would have kicked a Mansfield out over the polar bear, no matter how mildly amusing I found it.”

  “Eat it.” Grayson shoved the plate of eggs at me.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I pushed them across the table and finished fixing my coffee, not that I was sure that would stay down, either. Fuck, my ribs hurt. The new tattoo was the size of my outstretched fingers and was about as comfortable as being rubbed continuously with sandpaper, but it was worth it. The pain wasn’t helping the nausea, though.

  “You nailed the check ride yesterday, and everything else is out of your hands. There’s no reason to be nervous. It is what it is.”

  “You’re not even a little nervous?”

  He’d already consumed half his plate, which might have contained a full chicken coop’s worth of eggs. “Nope. My name is already somewhere on that list, and I can’t control what the people ahead of me are going to choose. If there’s no Apaches by the time my name is called, then I’ll deal.”

  My stomach flipped again. “I’m not sure I can.”

  He nailed me with a look that called me out as an idiot. “You need to make peace with your demons and decide what’s most important to you. Flying Apaches? Or being a pilot in general?”

  My phone buzzed. Maybe it’s…nope. “Josh just got there. Inhale the rest of that like the good little vacuum you are and let’s go.” I stroked my thumb over Paisley’s picture on my contacts list, opened a new text message, and closed it out before typing anything. I’d be there in seven hours, in her face where she couldn’t ignore me.

  He flipped me off but hoovered it while I stole the check and paid. He’d be pissed, but he’d get over it. He stayed silent as we drove toward the airfield. It felt like I was walking to my execution.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it or separate the two. I’d fallen in love with the Apache when I was a kid. It was the whole reason I wanted to fly. I wanted the power, the precision, the firepower. When I thought about flying, that was all I saw. Not that Blackhawks and Chinooks weren’t useful, but they just weren’t…mine. Where did this leave me?

  I parked Lucy, and Josh met us at the door. “I thought you’d be here before dawn.”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.” We were actually close to the last ones there. There were two giant blackboards in the front of the room. One gave the makeup of the available aircraft for selection—six Apaches, three Chinooks, and fifteen Blackhawks. The other, completely blank for the OML. “Why the fuck can’t they just tell us?”

  Josh laughed. “Just the first lesson that the army can fuck with you just for the fun of it.”

  Grayson slid into his chair and stretched out like nothing was bothering him. “Relax.”

  What did it say? Where was I? Twenty-three pilots and six Apaches, not that everyone wanted one. But I did.

  But what if I didn’t get one?

  Nausea rolled through me. Thank God I hadn’t eaten.

  Was I here to be a pilot or to be an Apache pilot? The answer was easy to me—an Apache pilot, and I was about 99.9 percent certain I wasn’t getting one. So what did that mean? If they got to my name and all the Apaches were gone, would I say Blackhawk?

  No. This dream had started with an Apache, the way the rotors looked against the sky from the cockpit. Anything less was failure, a half of a dream—a half life.

  Fuck.

  You’re so hell-bent on ripping your chest open for a risky procedure because you think a pacemaker sentences you to a half life…

  I was the asshole here. I’d been so focused on what I wanted, on my own fears, I hadn’t stopped to listen to what she was really saying. It didn’t matter how illogical it was to me, because it made perfect sense to her.

  I hadn’t stood by her. No, I’d made her choose her half life. I. Was. The. Asshole.

  Seven hours. I’d be there in seven hours, and then I’d listen to every single thought she had on it. I’d go in without preconceived notions, or my own mind made up. If I trusted her judgment on everything else, including me, I had to push my fears aside and trust her with her own future.

  The door swung open, and Carter walked in, looking as green as I felt. At least I wasn’t the only one who was nervous. He startled when he saw me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, sliding into his seat in front of me.

  “Wait, this isn’t morning yoga? Shit. I guess I’ll have to select a helicopter after all.”

  “That’s not what I mean—”

  “Everybody grab a seat,” Major Davidson said, coming from the side door. “We’re actually going to postpone selection for a few hours.” A collective groan sounded in the class. “We didn’t get the scores tallied from yesterday’s check rides, so we need to move it. We’ll be ready by fifteen hundred.”

  I glanced at my watch: eight a.m. They wanted us to wait another seven hours? Shit. I wouldn’t get to Paisley until the evening.

  “Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?” Carter asked, glaring at me.

  “Where else would I be?” What was up his ass?

  “Paisley is going into surgery in a few hours, so I figured you’d be there with her.”

  “What? No. She would have told me.” Would she?

  “She knew we had selection, but she told me she was going to tell you.”

  Major Davidson was still talking, but I didn’t give a fuck. “She didn’t.”

  Carter looked at me like he’d never seen me before. “She really loves you. You love her. It’s not just a fling. You two are the real deal.”

  “A fling? She’s my whole fucking world. She’s my oxygen, my water, and my solid ground. Nothing matters without her. I cease to exist.” I looked at the board where the helicopters were listed and stared as my heart picked up speed. “None of this matters to me without her.” I jumped out of my chair, sending it flying to the ground behind me, and the entire room turned to stare. “I have to leave,” I announced to all the raised eyebrows.

  “Right, we’ll all be leaving in a minute, Lieutenant Bateman. Let me finish these announcements and I’ll dismiss you,” Major Davidson said, anything but amused.

  “No, I have to leave now.” I swung my backpack over my shoulder and moved toward the exit. He met me in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?”

  “She’s going into surgery.” I tried to sidestep him, but he blocked me. Twice. “Do you want to dance?”

  “It’s selection.”

  “It’s Paisley.”

  The lines on his forehead appeared as he pinch
ed the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to be the damn death of me, Bateman. If you leave, your class leader will have to select for you, or you will draw whatever is left over. Can you live with that?”

  I didn’t need to think.

  “I can live with anything. What I can’t live without is her.” I turned around and locked eyes with him. “Hey, Carter. You want to show me some of that West Point honor you’re always gabbing about?”

  He lifted one eyebrow as a response.

  “Select for me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Paisley

  Screw you and your list, Peyton.

  “Everything looks good to go. Dr. Larondy will be in soon.” The nurse smiled at me, clipped my chart to the end of the bed, and left me alone with my mother.

  “You’re making the right decision, Lee.” She looked perfectly composed except for the thumbnail she chewed on.

  Then why does it feel like the wrong one? “I’ll be fine, Mama. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Hey! I brought your phone charger from home,” Morgan called out as she skipped in. She looked the opposite of how I felt.

  “I don’t need to charge it.”

  “Come on, Paisley. Don’t you miss the outside world?”

  No, I only miss Jagger. “Everyone I need is right here.” I forced a smile, but she saw straight through it.

  “Call him.” She sat on the edge of my bed.

  I adjusted my oxygen tube and shook my head. “No. It’s selection day. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  “You know, usually you’re the most levelheaded person I know. But this time you’ve gone lost your godforsaken mind.”

  “Morgan!” Mama chastised. “She’s about to have surgery!”

  “She’s about to lose what I would absolutely kill for. What any woman would kill for.”