The Downside of Love (The Blue Line Duet Book 2)

by Meghan Quinn

  Eyes shut for a brief moment, I allow myself to sink into the comfort of my bed and then open my eyes and read.

  Dear Rory,

  A month into flight school and I’m starting to get the hang of things. I’m not the slowest to adjust, but I’m not at the top either, where I want to be. I didn’t think flying a T-53 at the Academy and moving to a T-6 was going to be a huge adjustment, but it is. The plane is bigger, more powerful and for some reason, I feel shaky in the sky. Not the usual cool and calm airman.

  I don’t know, I have a lot on my brain.

  When I graduated, I expected to stay in touch with my friends more. Hardie and Joey are at a different base, Stryder hasn’t spoken to me since graduation (I worry about him), and I have yet to hear from you.

  If it wasn’t for the guys here I’m dorming with, I might feel more lost.

  But we’re all in this together.

  I would have thought it would be competitive, but it’s not. Everyone is supportive. Besides the few ribs here and there, we get along, just like at the Academy, and I think it’s because we’re in this for a greater good. It’s not just for us, but for our country.

  Fuck, that sounded corny above, but honestly, I don’t know what to say to you right now. I’m frustrated and mad at you, when I know I shouldn’t be. I wish you would answer me, at least let me know that you’re okay. I worry about you. I’m sure that won’t change your mind though, knowing I’m desperate to know how you are.

  You’re set in your ways, and I know from the time we were together that when you set your mind to something, you won’t be deterred.

  And oddly, I have to respect that, even though it’s killing me now.

  Just know, even though you don’t respond, I still love you and think about you every damn day.

  Colby

  My arm falls to the side, still clutching the letter, as tears prick the corners of my eyes, ready to spill over in grief.

  I hate that I’m hurting him by not writing back, but I know deep down it’s for the best.

  We need a clean break. It’s the only way it will work. For him. He deserves more than average. He deserves the world. And I’m not part of that world.

  I must hold strong.

  Leaning over, I pull the shoebox from under my bed and place the letter on top of the other ones I’ve kept, not giving it another glance. Please, Colby. Please keep looking to the skies. Please understand I did this so you will succeed. Please.

  Chapter Five

  STRYDER

  Eight years ago . . .

  “What the hell are you wearing?”

  I stop in my tracks and look at my jeans and plain gray T-shirt. Looking back at my dad, I say, “Uh, clothes. What are you wearing?”

  My dad is decked out in his dress blues, hair shaved closely to his head, his speckled gray hair barely visible in his flattop.

  “The ALO is going to be here in ten minutes,” he barks.

  ALO . . . oh, Christ.

  Admission Liaison Officer.

  Dad has been chomping at the bit to have one come to the house to prepare me for my “road to the Air Force,” a road I don’t even want to fucking take.

  But it’s “in my blood.” Every Sheppard man joins the Air Force.

  From the ripe age of ten, we are prepped and molded into airmen, forced to recite the traditions, to know every aircraft ever flown, to show the same respect and loyalty that would be dragged out of us while serving.

  We are hand-fed everything that deals with the Air Force.

  We breathe it.

  We sleep with it in our minds.

  We practically shit out the Air Force; that’s how infused it is into our souls.

  But not me. I’m not going to be an airman.

  Fuck no.

  I have other plans and they don’t involve staying in Colorado Springs for four years at the Academy, being a puppet for my father, making sure I hit every single one of his marks.

  No way in hell.

  Instead I’m going to . . .

  I’m going to join the Army. I’ll enlist right off the bat, not even apply to West Point. That way I can really piss the dickhead off, never giving myself a chance to be an officer.

  Oh wait, no, I have a better idea.

  I’ll enlist in the Navy.

  Talk about chapping the old man’s ass. Oh fuck, I can see the look on his face now.

  I could get one of those cheap-ass Top Gun costumes and give him my best Maverick impression while telling him I’m joining the Navy.

  The fucker would croak over.

  I chuckle to myself, loving my plan just as my dad steps up in front of me, humor nowhere to be found in his expression. Instead, a dark mask of irritation covers his face as he speaks. “Get the fuck upstairs and change. Blue suit, white shirt, black tie. Fix your goddamn hair, and be down in five minutes.”

  “And if I don’t?” I ask, puffing my chest out like a punk, challenging my father, matching him in height. I was an early bloomer.

  “Then you can forget about the Jeep that’s in the garage waiting for you to obtain your license.”

  Fuck.

  He knows how to get to me.

  My freedom is sitting in the garage, waiting for me to take it out for a spin. What I wouldn’t give to ride around in the Wrangler, top down, the wind blowing past me, feeling the fresh air surrounding me. I dream about it. It’s what helps me get through the suffocating moments in this household.

  “Is Mom coming to the meeting?” I ask, wanting to see what he has to say.

  Straightening up, he adjusts his suit. “She’s not feeling well. It’s just you and me. Now hurry the fuck up.”

  Not feeling well . . . Code for: “I caught my husband cheating on me again, and I’m in a fit of depression from it.”

  He’s such a bastard. The worst kind of man.

  Someone I will never end up like.

  The apple will fall extremely far from the tree where I’m concerned.

  Not wanting to get into it because I can imagine more and more privileges taken away from me, I turn away and head to my room, taking the steps two at a time. When I reach my bedroom, I slam the door like the teenager I am and start rummaging through my closet for my navy blue suit.

  It’s easy to find, because the stupid closet is organized, thanks to my father being a dictator, needing everything the way he likes it. Scratch that, needing everything the way the Air Force requires.

  Fucking Air Force.

  Shaking my head, I quickly change, knot up my tie, and go to the bathroom where I slick back my hair. It’s too long for my dad’s liking, but I refuse to get it cut. I’m surprised he hasn’t taken a razor to it himself. It wouldn’t be the first time he did that. Then again, I’m older now, stronger. He doesn’t challenge me as much physically anymore, but the verbal attacks keep coming.

  I can take his wicked tongue; his lashings just go in one ear and out the other. It’s when he takes away my freedom—my escape from him—that’s when he hits me hardest. And there’s a party I want to go to this weekend that I know he’ll take away from me if I don’t show up to this meeting like the perfect little cadet he has “trained” me to be.

  Finished with my primping, I make my way down the hallway, past my parents’ bedroom where I catch a glimpse of my mom curled up on the bed, back toward me, her shoulders slender and deflated. The TV is on, so I can’t hear if she’s upset, but knowing my mom, she is. She will be for the next few days before she puts on a good face and acts like nothing happened.

  I wonder who it was this time?

  Who was the woman worth hurting his wife over?

  He’s such a prick.

  Wishing I could give my mom a hug, I mentally tell her it’s going to be okay as I make my way down the stairs. My dad eyes me from the bottom, assessing my appearance. He must be pleased because he says, “Grab a notebook from the office and a pen. You will be required to take notes during this meeting and then present them to me once th
e ALO leaves. Be vigilant about details.”

  Inwardly, I envision stabbing my eyes with an ice pick, because that would be a hell of a lot more fun than sitting through this meeting with my cheating, asshole father.

  Chapter Six

  STRYDER

  “You really don’t mind?” I ask, setting my bag in Ryan’s living room.

  She shakes her head and goes to the fridge where she pulls out two orange sodas. “No, I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind bouncing between apartments. I like you, Stryder, but I don’t plan on putting my dating life on hold because of you.”

  She eyes me up and down over her soda, testing me.

  Her dating life.

  I know she’s wanted me to be a part of that life for a while, but I haven’t been able to make a move. Every time I convince myself to go for it, to ask her out or pin her against a wall and give her everything she’s begging for, my mind goes directly to Rory and her sweet eyes and smile, clogging my brain, halting any forward progress with Ryan.

  I can’t be with Ryan, not when she’s Rory’s best friend. I know Rory enough to understand she would never give me a chance if she knew there had ever anything between Ryan and me. There is a code and all. And even if I never get a chance to be with Rory, I don’t ever want the reason to be because I fucked her best friend.

  Ryan is off limits.

  “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.” I sip on my orange soda just as the front door opens and Rory strolls in.

  I guess we don’t knock around here.

  “Hey roomies,” she jokes but then scrunches her nose. “That seems weird to say.”

  “Not as weird as you making it weird,” Ryan points out and eyes Rory up and down. “I thought I told you to bring pancakes.”

  “They’re in the car.”

  “What the hell are they doing in the car?”

  Pancakes? It’s dinnertime.

  Oh hell, are they the kind of girls who like breakfast for dinner? From the ravenous look in Ryan’s eyes, I’m going to guess they are.

  Fuck. I hate breakfast for dinner. Why eat breakfast for dinner when you can have pizza and beer?

  Speaking of beer, I’m itching to down one right about now, especially with Rory standing in front of me wearing tiny spandex shorts and a tank top that seems to be painted on her skin, stretched across her breasts, both of her nipples hard and poking against the fabric. Shit, I want to know what it feels like to roll those little pebbles between my fingers. I want to know what the expression on her face would be like if I took her nipples into my mouth, sucking and licking until she couldn’t take it anymore.

  Staying at my dad’s house seems like a good idea right about now.

  “I was on the phone and forgot to grab them. Do you mind going to get them? I want to ask Stryder something.”

  “Fine, but don’t talk about anything important until I get back. Got it?” Ryan brushes past me, her blonde hair brushing against my arm.

  When the door shuts, Rory turns toward me and eyes me in my ABUs, her brow pinching together before she looks away and sits on the couch. Do I remind her of Colby when I’m in my uniform? I know he wore it around her a few times. Does she think he looks better in the uniform, or does she notice how I fill mine out more?

  Fidgeting, she looks up at me and nods toward the couch. “Don’t be awkward; sit next to me.”

  Caught off guard, I chuckle and take a seat. “Wasn’t trying to be awkward, was just waiting for your cue. What do you need to talk to me about?”

  Leveling with me, she says, “I want you to know I’m not asking you this because I think you owe me anything, but what I’m about to ask you is a friend asking a friend for help.”

  “Okayyy,” I drag out, enjoying that she called me a friend and not Colby’s friend.

  “And if you didn’t call us the other night, I might have called you up randomly to ask, because that’s how desperate I am.”

  “Rory, just ask me whatever it is.”

  “Okay. As you know my brother has autism.” I nod, remembering talking to Colby about it after they both fled the hangar when we’d skydived to help calm him down. “Did you know he is a Special Olympics athlete?”

  “He is?” My brows rise. “That’s awesome.”

  She nods, pride evident in her features. “Yes, it’s way out of his comfort zone but he enjoys it. He competes in bocce ball, which is played in the fall. This year, my parents enrolled him in athletics.”

  “Athletics?”

  “Track and field. He participates in shot put, also known as softball throw.”

  “Right on. Sounds like fun. Does he like it?”

  Sitting even taller, she nods, and as she does, her scent drifts toward me, relaxing my body with one deep inhale. “He does. It’s been a challenge, trying to figure out how to make the sport comfortable for him to participate in, but he’s thriving, and I love that.”

  “That’s great. So what’s your question?”

  “Well, we have this big regional event coming up and we’re short on volunteers.”

  I know exactly where this is going and before she has a chance to ask, I say, “I’m there. How many more people do you need? I can gather volunteers from the Air Force and some cadets from the Academy as well.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyes widen, hope eating her alive.

  “Yeah. Of course. I would do anything for you, Rory.” The confession slips out of my mouth before I can stop it. Before she can think too much of it, I clear my throat. “You’re my friend.” There you go, stick yourself right in the friend zone, the perfect place for someone who is infatuated.

  Her eyes move back and forth between mine, probably searching to see if I’m serious, and then she flings herself into my arms. She pulls me into a hug and tucks her head into my shoulder. For a moment, I’m stiff as fuck, unsure what to do, but with her so close, it doesn’t take long for my body to react.

  I wrap my arms around her, bringing her in close, pressing my face into her hair, memorizing how it feels soft against my chin, committing it to memory along with the way she feels in my arms.

  At that moment, the door opens and slams, indicating Ryan’s return. “What the hell is going on here?” she asks, as the sign of a bag rustles at her side. “I said not to discuss anything important while I was gone.”

  Rory pulls away, using my body to steady hers as she moves across the couch. God, one hug was nowhere near enough.

  “Stryder said he could help me with my volunteer issue.”

  Realization registers over Ryan’s face. “Oh, really? Smart asking the Air Force guy. I bet he has a lot of people who can help.”

  “Yeah, I’ll round up some airmen. It won’t be a problem.”

  “See, I knew rescuing him from the bar would be a good idea.” Ryan plops down between us and divvies out to-go boxes. They’re warm, and even though I don’t like breakfast for dinner, I have to admit, these smell like bacon, so they smell good.

  “Flirt with Derick?” Ryan asks as she pops open her lid after grabbing forks from the kitchen.

  Rory shakes her head. “No, Derick wasn’t working. I had to pay full price for the bacon. I thought Stryder would appreciate a little meat with his dinner.”

  I pop a piece in my mouth and say, “Damn right I do. How much do I owe you for dinner?”

  Rory shakes me off. “Don’t worry about it. Just buy me dinner one night.”

  And fuck if that thought didn’t just make my stomach flip upside down. Buying Rory dinner. I want nothing more than to treat this woman to a meal out, talk to her for hours, learn everything about her, dig deep into that beautiful soul.

  It might have been her looks and smile that captured me first, but as I continued to get to know her through Colby, I fell more and more.

  Now, I want to discover everything about her. With her.

  Digging into the pancakes after dousing the fluffy cakes with maple syrup, I take a giant bite.

  Fuck me, thes
e are good.

  Damn it. I should have known Rory could change my thoughts on breakfast for dinner, because if this is what it’s like, then I’ve been missing out my entire life.

  “Okay, so what’s going on?” Ryan asks, mouth stuffed full of pancakes and clearly not caring about talking with her mouth full. “When you asked if you could bring pancakes over, I figured there had to be a reason why we’re digging into our comfort food.”

  Turning in her seat and leaning against the armrest of the couch, Rory sets her fork down in her to-go box. “Other than that I think Stryder should be initiated into our little world with our signature meal, I wanted to talk to you both about a slight snafu I ran into.”

  “Does this have to do with our living situation?” Ryan asks.

  Rory confirms with a tilt of her head. “I talked to my mom about staying with them a few days in the week and she said no.”

  That seems weird. I don’t know Rory’s parents, but given the woman they created, I’d assume they’d have the same beautiful hearts as Rory.

  Not even batting an eyelash, Ryan quietly asks, “Bryan?”

  “Yup,” Rory answers not sounding upset or irritated, just confirming Ryan’s thoughts. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it first, but when Mom brought it to my attention, it’s obvious why I shouldn’t. We don’t want to confuse him, lead him to hope I might be living at my parents’ again. It was hard enough when I moved out.”

  Shit, that never would have crossed my mind. How many other situations do Rory and her parents have to consider for Bryan?

  “Totally understandable. Don’t worry about it, Rory. Stryder can just stay with me.”

  This feels awkward. I feel like I’m invading their conversation even though it is about me.

  “No.” Rory shakes her head slightly, the tips of her hair brushing over her breasts with her movement. “I got an air mattress today. It’s a little twin mattress, but it will do. I can tuck it away in the corner and we can have some slumber parties.” She chuckles, the sound so sweet. “It will be like we’re in high school. We can gab all night.”