by KB Winters
“Why were you even up there at night by yourself?” Jack asked, his brows still high. “I mean, did anyone even know you were going up? Come on, Player, I know you. You wouldn’t have—”
“Boomer, back off about it, okay?” Jack’s mouth snapped shut at my harsh tone and a wavering of guilt rolled over me. I knew he wasn’t trying to point fingers, but everything he said irritated me like nails on a chalkboard.
“Do you need anything?” Holly asked, looking from her boyfriend to me and then back again. “We came straight here from the airport. We could go see Carly and get you some goodies?”
I gave her my best smile. “That would be great.”
She ran a hand over my shoulder and smiled back at me, her eyes still watery. “Okay. You got it. I’m sure she’ll come up to visit you as soon as she closes up for the day.”
I nodded.
“You go ahead, honey, I’ll be right there,” Jack said as Holly started for the door.
She nodded, but not without a warning glance at Jack. Her meaning clear. Be nice.
I really did smile that time.
“Come on, man. How are you? Really?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. Boomer was my best friend, my brother, my battle buddy. But he could also be a major pain in the ass.
“I got a shit ton of stitches keeping my guts inside my body. My wrist is busted. They got me hooked up to all these fuckin’ machines. How do you think I am?”
Jack looked towards the empty doorway and then back at me, a flicker of something in his eyes. “What about the girl? The news said you were…with someone…”
I dropped my eyes to the thin cover on top of me. I couldn’t hold Jack’s gaze. Not when my insides tossed and rumbled as the thoughts I’d been pressing against all day came bursting forth again. It was like bracing a door closed against a monster. I’d held it for so long, and then, at the slightest release, it flew open and the beast that had been waiting on the other side, came roaring back.
“Talia—” I croaked.
“Who is she?”
“It’s a long story, Boomer. She didn’t make it.”
Jack swore under his breath. “Shit, I’m sorry man.” He clapped a hand to my shoulder and I grimaced at the impact.
“Yeah.”
A long, tense silence stretched between us. I didn’t have anything else to say, and although I would have bet anything Jack had a million questions he wanted to ask—he kept quiet.
Thankfully, Gemma came sweeping into the room with the pretty smile I’d become used to. “Knock, knock. How’s my patient?” She had her eyes locked on me but they briefly flicked to Jack and she stopped in her tracks. “Oh my God! You’re Jack McGuire.”
After Boomer returned home, his name and face had been splashed all over the news, detailing his firsthand account of what had happened in the Middle East when his fighter jet had been shot down, leaving him stranded in hostile territory, until he’d commandeered an enemy plane and taken out a secret cell of terrorists in the mountainside. The entire thing had been all the rage for a few months. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be recognized on the street, and he handled it with ease.
That was Boomer.
All diplomacy and class—unlike me.
Jack released my shoulder from his grip and turned towards Gemma, offering her a smile and a handshake. “Yes ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” Gemma wrinkled her nose and then giggled, the soft sound worked its way over me, and I realized it was the first time I’d heard her laugh. It was a sound I could get used to. Especially given my circumstances. “Gemma Henderson. I’m a trauma nurse here at the hospital. And, currently in charge of your buddy here.”
“Thank you,” Jack said, still smiling.
Gemma came to my side and checked the numbers on the screen over my shoulder and then looked at the IV bag that was dripping medicine and fluids into my system on a slow drip. “Everything looks good. How do you feel? Any discomfort? Pain?”
I shook my head. In truth, I’d been aching for the last half an hour, but I found myself wanting to feel the pain. I was already numb enough.
“All right,” Gemma said, giving me another appraising look over. “Well, Mr. McGuire, feel free to stay as long as you’d like. I’ll make sure they leave you alone when they round up the other visitors.”
Jack smiled and gave a friendly nod. “Thank you.”
“He was actually just leaving,” I interjected. “Pastry run.”
Gemma laughed. “I see. The hospital fare not quite cutting it?”
“Not even a little,” I teased, feeling more like myself than I had thus far. “I have particular tastes.”
Gemma flushed slightly and gave a nod. “Right. Well, as always, let me know if you need anything. Mr. McGuire, a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for your service to our country.”
“Of course. And thank you, for taking care of Player, here. I know he can be a handful. Hopefully he hasn’t been giving you too much trouble.”
“I’m right fuckin’ here, McGuire.”
Gemma laughed and ducked out of the room with a final glance back at me, her eyes bright and shining.
Chapter Four
As promised, Holly returned an hour or so later, two huge pastry boxes in hand. After letting me take my pick of the stacks of treats, they took the rest out to the nurse’s station to be divvied up around the night shift crew as the afternoon sun began to set.
“Carly told you to get better soon,” Holly told me, taking a seat by my feet, before biting into a croissant. “She said she’ll be by to harass you tomorrow morning.”
“As long as she brings me an almond spice latte.”
Holly laughed and nodded. “Naturally.”
“Where’s Jack?”
She swallowed her bite forcefully, licking the corner of her mouth before answering, “He went up to the museum to see how things are going. Have you heard anything?”
I shook my head. “I don’t have a phone.”
“Right.” Holly chewed her lower lip nervously.
Jack strode into the room a few minutes later, and behind him, following like a duckling, was Lana. She burst into loud, ugly tears as soon as she crossed the threshold, and the expressions on Jack and Holly at her outburst, made it hard to keep a straight face. “Oh my gosh! Mr. Rosen!”
I rolled my eyes as she wrapped me in a gently embrace. “Lana, it’s okay. Relax.”
She shuddered as her sobs poured out and I pat her back. When she finally pulled away, she took a few steps back, and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry…I just…” She didn’t finish her thought before dissolving into tears again. Holly—still looking confused—ran around to comfort her.
“How are things up at the museum?” I asked, looking at Jack, as Lana clearly wasn’t going to be able to answer—her wails only getting louder.
Jack tore his questioning gaze from Lana and Holly and leveled his eyes with mine. “There are some agents from the Federal Aviation Administration up at the museum, asking questions, looking around,” he answered, lines of worry creasing around his eyes.
I groaned and dropped my head back on the pile of pillows behind me. “That’s just great. I’m sure all my staff will love being interrogated by the FAA. They weren’t even there when it happened!”
“I know. I’m not sure how much info they’re gonna get, but you know the drill, they have to ask their questions, get the scope of the situation. You know, just doing their job.”
Just what I needed. I couldn’t wait to get back to a mountain of government paperwork and red tape.
I’d be lucky if they didn’t shut me down until the investigation was over.
Financially, I could afford a few months off—hell, it might not even be a bad thing—but in the tourist business, a few months off, could lead to a loss of exposure and revenue that would have reverberating effects for months, or even years, to come.
“I’m sure they’ll be over to interview yo
u soon enough,” Jack added.
Lana blew her nose as loud as a cannon going off and jerked everyone’s attention back to her. “Mr. Rosen, I’m so glad you’re all right. When I heard about the crash, I—I thought—” she buried her face into Holly’s shoulder before she could continue.
I rolled my eyes. It was no secret that Lana had harbored a long term crush on me, but even considering that, her reaction was over the top.
“I don’t know what I’ll tell them…I wasn’t exactly doing things…” I glanced at Lana. “…by the books.”
Jack shot me a dark look. I’d just confirmed his suspicion.
“Holly, can you take Lana back to the museum?” Holly nodded and started to extract herself from Lana’s clinging hands. “Lana,” I barked, hoping to snap her out of whatever she was so worked up over, “—I need you to be strong, okay? We can’t have this affecting business. Keep the FAA people away from the visitors. Make sure the staff is all friendly and happy. Let them know I’m okay. No stress. No tears. Business as usual. That’s the only way we’re going to make it through this. We have to keep confidence high and keep on trucking. Got it?”
She nodded, her face pink and swollen. “Of course.”
“Thank you.”
Holly took her by the shoulders and steered her out of the room. Jack shut the door behind them and pocketed his hands, planting his feet wide, at the end of my bed. “Okay, flyboy, what is it you’re not telling me?”
I raked my uninjured hand through my dark hair. “It’s nothing, it’s a little…complicated.”
He rounded the foot of the bed sat down on the chair beside me and said, “I’m all ears.”
As I started telling him the whole story, starting from the charity auction where I’d beat O’Keefe out of the F-4 jet, the resulting brawl in the parking lot, and meeting Talia at the club that night, he just listened. I rattled off the facts in a bullet point fashion, the offer O’Keefe made me, his attempted blackmailing, and then Talia coming to me the night of the crash, telling me she’d been threatened and was scared for her life. When I got to the part about the friend who could smuggle things in and out of Mexico, Jack sighed, his only reaction to the entire story.
“God, that’s pretty fucked up, Player.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. And now…Talia is dead. The plane is history. And it’s all my fault,” my voice was hollow and emotionless.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t put yourself through that.”
I scoffed. “I was the pilot. I should have caught the problem before the wheels even left the ground. And if I couldn’t have caught that problem ahead of time—I should have had the sense to land—well, crash—in a way that we both walked away. I mean, for fuck’s sake, we were hardly off the ground! Talia should still be here.”
Jack shook his head. “Buddy, you’re gonna have to let that go. That kind of guilt will only eat you alive. Pilots—even good ones—have situations that are out of their control. I get that you’re messed up over this. I get it. Trust me. But, I’d hate to see you let this freak accident destroy your career.”
“I don’t know if I’m gonna have much of a choice. The FAA could take away my license.”
Jack leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He nodded, “They could, but I don’t think they will. They’ll look over the plane and figure out what went wrong. It’s not like you were drunk or high. I don’t see how the blame could be on you.”
I didn’t answer. In my mind, the blame lay on my shoulders, and there wasn’t anything Jack—or anyone else—could say to take it away.
* * * *
The next morning dawned earlier than I would have liked, with a visit from Gemma.
“Aaron, there’s some people here to see you,” she said, stepping into the room. “They say they’re with the FAA.”
I groaned. “Can you get rid of them? I’m not ready to go over everything yet.”
Gemma considered me for a long moment then nodded. She pivoted on her heel and left the room without another word. I sank back against the mountain of pillows—each nurse that came into my room had brought another one—and shut my eyes. A part of my brain knew it would be better to talk to them, give my statement, and let them get on with their investigation. I wasn’t doing myself any favors by shutting them out. It would only prolong the waiting period. But, the other part of my mind wasn’t ready to face the truth I knew they were bound to uncover.
I’d been the pilot in a fatal plane crash. I didn’t see how that could end well for me. Especially if they found out that I was helping smuggle someone into Mexico with a fake passport. The whole thing sounded insane, ridiculous and terribly illegal.
“Okay, I think you’re in the clear for now,” I looked back up at Gemma’s smooth, confident tone. She floated into the room, her white coat billowing behind her. “Has Dr. Andrews been in this morning?”
I shook my head and closed my eyes again, content to let her voice roll over me.
“Hmm. Okay. Well, let’s see how things are going.”
I let her work, answered her questions, and when she was done, I opened my eyes again and was surprised to find her standing over me, a puzzled look on her face. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she brushed a lock of her brunette hair behind her ear. “Is there anything you need?”
I started to shake my head, but then stopped, and rolled my gaze back to her. “Can I have coffee?”
She smiled. “Sure. I think that would be all right.”
“I’d offer to be a gentleman and go get us a couple cups, but, ya know,” I dropped my eyes to my side that was still sore and bruised, making anything longer than the walk to the latrine impossible.
Gemma laughed. “I’ll go see what I can find.”
She returned a few minutes later, a Styrofoam cup in each hand. She handed me one and then dragged the plastic chair at the foot of my bed up to the head of the bed and sat down. I took my first sip of the steaming beverage and groaned. “Oh my God, that’s good.”
Gemma leaned in conspiratorially. “Nurse’s lounge always has the good stuff.”
I laughed and took another long sip. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She leaned back and took a drink off her own cup. “So, can I ask, how you’re doing with everything?”
I found her eyes and couldn’t bring myself to feed her the line I’d given everyone else. Her steady gaze silently demanded the truth. “Honestly? I feel like shit.”
She nodded. “Was the woman in the crash your…girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “No. Just a friend. We hadn’t really known each other that long. I was helping her get out of town for a little while.” Gemma tilted her head but didn’t ask whatever question was brewing in her mind. “It was the first time—outside of war—that I’ve seen someone die.”
“Navy, right?”
I nodded. “Not anymore, obviously, but yeah. I was a fighter pilot. Just like Boomer.”
“Boomer?”
“Jack McGuire.”
“Oh! Right. I don’t know why I didn’t make that connection. So you were a fighter pilot, and now you run the museum?”
“Actually I own it. It was my father’s business. He started it after his own Navy career ended. He passed away, a little over two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Gemma placed a hand on the top of my fingers that stuck out from the hard cast around my broken wrist. Her touch was soft, almost like a tickle, and yet, it sent warmth all over my body.
“Thanks. Uhm…when he passed, Boomer and I were overseas. I flew home, buried my father, took over the museum, and moved into his house. Kinda took over his life, I guess.”
“I think that’s really admirable.” Gemma kept her hand on mine. “I can relate actually. My old man was Army, and so I followed his steps too. Well, kind of, I spent four years as a trauma nurse with an aviation unit. I did two tours in Iraq before I got out. Spent a year after that in an ER up in Chicago.”
“Wow. Impressive. How’d you get from Chicago to Holiday Cove?” I asked with a laugh. I couldn’t think of two more opposite cities.
“To be honest, I finally figured out that while I thrive under the pressure and chaos, it was taking more out of me than I was willing to give. At least, long term.”
“Makes sense.”
“What about you? Do you miss being in the Navy?”
“Yes and no. I miss my buddies. That feeling of belonging is hard to replicate. Or, at least that’s been my experience. When Jack lived at the base, about an hour from here, it was a little easier. But now, he and Holly, his girlfriend, live over in Germany for another two and a half years. They promise they’ll come back and stay in California after that, but who knows. People change their minds on stuff like that all the time.” I paused and shrugged at her. “But it’s all good. The museum keeps me working like a dog, so I usually don’t have enough down time to get too bored.”
I left out the part about how I usually spent all my free time…in between a different pair of thighs every other night. And hers were looking pretty tasty.
“I haven’t been up to check it out yet,” Gemma confessed. “I’ll have to remedy that soon. Maybe you can take me up, when you’re all healed up,” she said, pointing at my wrist.
My chest tightened at her suggestion.
Gemma must have noticed my dark expression, because she quickly added, “I know that right now you’re probably thinking you’ll never fly again. But, from experience, I’m sure you will.”
“Yeah.” I dropped my attention to the swirling contents of my cup.
Gemma patted the back of my hand. “I see it all the time with people involved in traumatic car crashes. They get out of here, and the last thing they want to do is get behind the wheel. I mean, sure, there are probably some that’ll never do again. But I think that’s a small percentage. Most of them drive again once they get over that initial fear.”
“Yeah? Well how many of them killed someone in their car crash?” The sharpness in my tone startled me as it echoed back.
Gemma wasn’t fazed. “More than you’d think.”