The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

  “If you want us to throw the siding on before the Frisco job, then I’ll need it in the next couple of days so I can get everything here.” He smiled at Finley. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

  “Sure thing!” she answered.

  “I’ll think it over,” I told him, my eyes drawn back to the teal even though I knew that was the most ridiculous, ostentatious choice I could make.

  We said our good-byes as Steve headed toward the cranes hovering over my house. Hand in hand, Fin and I steered clear of the construction, then crossed over the dune to the beach.

  Jackson had a blanket spread out on the sand, anchored at the corners with a small cooler and a few rocks.

  Stop getting all gooey. It’s not a date.

  Ugh. Did he have to look so good? He walked over to meet us, barefoot in swim trunks, the wind ruffling his hair and plastering his T-shirt against his carved-by-Michelangelo body.

  “You made a picnic?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound as breathless to him as it did to me. What the hell was wrong with me? He wasn’t the first attractive man I’d been around since…everything happened, but he was the first I was attracted to, that was for sure.

  “Don’t get excited. It’s just snacks.” He shrugged with a little smile that did inappropriate things to my stomach.

  “Pickles, and strawberries, and Skittles!” Finley raced over to the blanket.

  “And low tide,” I said softly. He’d remembered his promise, and damn if that wasn’t more attractive than his looks.

  “And low tide.” We stood there staring at each other for a moment longer than neighborly friendliness suggested. “So, how has your week been?” he asked, leading me to the blanket.

  “Full of Steve, and choices, and diner food,” I replied, crossing my legs under me and sitting next to Finley. “You?”

  “Work and urchin-chasing,” he said, digging containers out of the cooler and tossing a wink at Finley. “Maybe I could introduce you to Christina. She’s Hastings’s wife. Super level-headed, nice, all that. Owns a shop in town, since you’re stuck there for another week or so.”

  “I have friends,” I said defensively.

  “Here?” he questioned, handing me a plastic container.

  “Well, no. I have Mia and Joey up in Nags Head, and Sam will be back in a couple of weeks to spend the summer with me. She had to fly home to Colorado so she could take care of a couple things and grab more clothes. The rest of my friends are, well, a lot of other places.”

  “Well, it never hurts to have more friends, and I’m happy to hook you up.”

  I thanked him, and we devoured our snacks while Finley regaled me with tales of her week. She’d baked cookies with her grandmother, then visited the aquarium and the ship museum, and taken a kiteboarding lesson.

  “On the ocean?” I asked, letting my mouth hang open in overexaggeration.

  “Yep! I had a vest on. No biggie.” She brushed a handful of red curls behind her ear, revealing a smattering of freckles that hadn’t been there last week. “Can I go search now?” she asked Jackson, already bouncing on her knees.

  “Stay close,” he instructed, and she was off, racing toward the water.

  I helped Jackson pack up our picnic, secured the bag to a large rock, and then we headed toward where Finley walked along the waterline.

  “Okay, see where the sandbar has a little break in the middle?” We paused where a shallow rivulet of water ran through the bar.

  “This is the riptide?” My eyes narrowed as I studied the water running from the pool in the sandbar back to the ocean. “It’s so small.”

  “Sure, right now. Bring in the tide, and the amount of water it’s sucking back out grows exponentially.”

  “Seems right.” I scanned the sand on the bank, hoping to find another piece of glass to add to my collection. “I mean, it’s always the things that look harmless that end up wrecking you, right?”

  He studied my face for a handful of seconds before nodding. “Yeah, I guess you could say that, if you’re the kind of person always looking for the riptide.”

  “I’m actually the opposite, if you can’t tell, just standing in the middle of it, thinking it’s harmless, surprised when it knocks my feet from under me.” I looked down the beach, where Finley was doing some searching of her own. “So what’s she looking for?”

  Jackson’s eyes narrowed slightly, watching Finley pick something up. “She wants a perfect conch shell. We come out a lot at low tide so she can search.”

  We passed a family building a sandcastle, and I offered them a smile.

  “What’s she going to do once she gets the perfect conch?”

  Jackson grinned. “Decide she wants something else and start that search.”

  I chuckled. “Typical girl. We want what we want until we have it, and then it’s on to the next thing.”

  “That’s most guys, too,” he countered.

  “You?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. At least not since Finley was born. Kids have a way of changing the way you look at the world and your role in it.” He paused, bending down to grab something. He brushed his thumb over it and then grinned, handing it to me. “Here you go. It’s pink. That color’s really rare.”

  He dropped a piece of sea glass in my hand. Its peachy pink color caught the sun as I flipped it over in my palm.

  “Thank you!” I crossed behind him and dipped it into the water, letting the next wave wash away the sand. “It’s beautiful. I didn’t realize there were rare colors.”

  “Oh yeah, there’s classifications and everything. Christina makes jewelry with it. Her shop’s down by the bakery. I bet she’d be happy to teach you all about the different colors.” He raised his eyebrows in an obvious way.

  “What are you? The matchmaker for friends?” I teased. It wasn’t a half-bad idea to acquaint myself with the local shops, or to make a friend. “Okay. Give me the address, and I’ll go visit the shop.”

  “Good. That’s good,” he said with a nod. “Hey, slow down!”

  Finley turned and nodded, slowing from her run to examine the ground more carefully.

  We walked a fair distance in companionable silence, and I let the waves lull my head into a calm sort of quiet.

  “Tell me about the truck.”

  “What?” I startled.

  “The giant F250 in your driveway that you said was left to you. Tell me about it.” He looked at me with a mixture of expectation and patience, like he knew I’d eventually tell him and was willing to wait for it.

  “That…” I ran my fingers over the sea glass as my throat tightened in warning. “That is a really long story.”

  “That you don’t want to tell?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. Where I’m from, in Alabama, the truck kind of tells the story for me. Everyone knows. It’s nice to be somewhere where it’s my choice to tell—or not.” I left out the part where my anxiety attacks shut down even the possibility of talking about it most days.

  “Does it have anything to do with why you bought the house that time forgot?” His tone was easy, and he kept his eyes on Finley, which helped my throat loosen the smallest degree.

  “It has everything to do with it,” I admitted. The wind whipped a strand of hair over my face, and I twisted it up around my ponytail to keep it out of the way. Gray clouds moved up the coast quick enough that I could visually track the movement. “That’s not serious, right?” I asked, pointing at the sky.

  “No,” Jackson answered. “It’s too early for hurricanes or anything. Might mess with your drilling schedule, though.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I ran into Steve when I got home and asked. That’s also how I knew that you usually stop by around now to check on the progress. It’s amazing what happens when you ask him things. He gives yo
u answers. Novel concept.” His voice was flat, but his eyes sparkled with the tease.

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “Daddy, look!” Finley raced over to us, a small conch in her hand. “Not big enough, but good for today!”

  Jackson dropped down to examine her treasure. “Whoa! It’s gorgeous, Fin! Worth the walk?”

  “Yep! I’m gonna see if I can find another one. Morgan, want this one?” Her eyebrows rose in question, and I found myself smiling bigger than I had in a long while.

  “I would be honored to have it,” I told her, bringing myself level with her.

  She grabbed it from Jackson and presented it to me with a flourish, like I wouldn’t know she’d actually been the one to give it to me if he had handed it over.

  “Thank you,” I told her as I held it up to study its markings. “I will treasure it.”

  She grinned, big and wide, her nose scrunching in the best way. “Good! I’ll find more!” She smacked a kiss on Jackson’s cheek and then raced off back toward the house, examining the beach with a new intensity.

  “Be prepared to own quite a seashell collection,” Jackson warned as we watched her.

  I clasped the shell she’d given me in one hand and the glass from her father in the other as a sweet feeling that I was scared to identify swept through me.

  It felt too close to peace. Too comforting to rely on.

  “She has your smile,” I told him as we followed her, walking the path where the water met the sand and swept over our feet every so often.

  “Thanks. Lucky for her, she mostly resembles Claire,” he mused.

  “Is that your wife?” I asked, then cringed. “If you don’t like to talk about it, I completely understand. I have no business prying.”

  “I’m sure prying into your business,” he retorted with a grin that quickly faded. “Claire and I were never married. We were engaged for about four months, though.” He tucked his thumbs into his pockets and looked ahead to where Finley was digging in the sand. “That’s a long story, too.”

  I walked silently next to him, deciding if he wanted to share, that was fine, and if he didn’t, that was okay, too. I didn’t move here to poke at someone else’s wounds.

  “We met in college,” he said with a soft smile.

  “In Maine?”

  “No. She was on a full ride to Boston University for drama and theater, and I was at MIT as a legacy who started majoring in Frat Parties 101 but graduated with a degree in oceanography.”

  I blinked a few times.

  “What? Didn’t peg me for an MIT guy?” His smile nearly tied my tongue in knots.

  “I don’t know you well enough to make assumptions. Even though I may have considering you look…” I gestured up and down his torso.

  “Look like what?” he teased.

  “Like you want to finish your story.” I flashed a sugar-sweet smile at him.

  “Uh-huh.” His tone dripped with sarcasm.

  Something stirred inside my chest, as if part of me had been asleep for too long and was blinking awake, shielding her eyes from the sun. Except Jackson was the sun. For the first time since…ever, I felt a sense of connection to a man who wasn’t Will. I jerked my eyes from his and focused on Finley walking ahead of us.

  “We hit it off junior year,” he continued, either not seeing or ignoring my mini freak-out. “And then after graduation…” He looked away as his voice softened, and I knew he wasn’t with me—he was with her. “I joined the coast guard, and Fin was born the next September. I proposed to Claire while she was in labor, and she laughed and called me an idiot.” He smiled, shaking his head.

  “But she said yes,” I assumed. I hadn’t taken him for a coast guard guy, but I guess it made sense. The coast guard probably employed tons of oceanographers. It didn’t stop the tiny piece of panic from rising in my throat, though. The coast guard was still the military, but he was a scientist, not one of the front-line guys.

  “She said yes,” he confirmed. “It was the happiest day of my life.”

  “I found another one!” Finley shouted, waving a shell above her head.

  “Good job, honey!” Jackson answered.

  Without coming to show us her treasure, Finley continued her hunt.

  “She’s a big bottle of joy, isn’t she?” I asked, watching her fight with her hair.

  “She’s Claire. A little bit of my recklessness, sure, but that crazy optimism? All her mother.” His voice trailed off, but then he took a deep breath. “She left us when Fin was about four months old. Got an offer for a pilot in L.A. and said she’d come back as soon as they finished filming.”

  “But she didn’t?” I guessed. That look in his eyes…he was still in love with her. It was the same look Will got when he’d talk about Peyton—all wistful but resigned.

  He shook his head. “Claire’s always been easily distracted by shiny things, and there are a lot of stars to shine out there. But who knows? Maybe one day…” He shrugged.

  My heart sank. Even if she hadn’t really loved Jackson, how could any mother walk away from her child and never come back? “And you became a single father with a baby.”

  He nodded, watching Fin with the rapt look of an adoring parent. It was the same way Paisley looked at her son, the way my mama looked at me. “My parents were already gone, and Vivian loves Fin desperately, so I moved here—to the only family we had left.”

  “You’re one of the really good ones, aren’t you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

  His slight laugh was anything but funny. “No. That’s the kicker. I’m not. Anything I am that resembles good is because of her.” He nodded toward Finley. “I’ve always been an asshole. Selfish, careless, impetuous, you name it. But for her, I’ll be anything she needs. I’ll rip the world apart to keep her safe, and I’ll make damn sure I don’t give her anything to be embarrassed about when it comes to me.”

  “And you do it without any help. I can’t even imagine.” I could barely take care of myself, let alone another person.

  “I have Sarah—our nanny—and Vivian. She keeps Fin one weekend a month, and she used to take care of Fin while I was at work. I wouldn’t have made it through her baby years without Vivian. Brie helps, too. I’ve never been alone when it comes to Finley.”

  “Brie was the redhead at the party, right? The pretty one with the black suit?”

  “Yeah. I try to include her in what I can.”

  His words jogged my memory. “Oh wow, she’s the other fifth-grade teacher at the elementary school.”

  “She is. She recognized you.”

  I watched Finley brush off another shell and add it to her collection. “Does she get to see Claire?”

  Jackson’s jaw clenched, and I immediately regretted asking.

  “She sees her about once a year if Claire decides to visit for Christmas, and she calls, but Claire has never been good about consistency. She’ll call once a day for a week and then go another three months without a peep.” He shrugged as we followed Finley, who was already at the top of the dune. “That’s Claire.”

  There wasn’t any condemnation in his tone. Had I been in that situation, I wouldn’t have been able to say the same. Was he still waiting for Claire to come back?

  My cell phone rang as we crested the dune, which kept me from asking that very personal, very not-my-business question.

  “Hello?” I answered, plugging my ear to hear over the sound of the drills as we neared the house.

  My insurance agent started at a million miles an hour, ending with, “So we’ll need the VIN and registration to add it to your policy now that it’s out of storage.”

  Right. The truck.

  We reached Jackson’s backyard, and I examined the truck from a distance. I could open the door and grab everything from the glove box. Easy. It wasn’t like I was driving the damned
thing.

  “Sure, give me a second, and I’ll get it,” I said to my agent as Steve waved from his command center.

  “I just need to grab something out of the truck,” I told Jackson, covering the mouthpiece as we closed in on Steve.

  Jackson nodded as Finley took his hand, pulling him toward the book of color swatches.

  My heart rate spiked as I drew closer to the truck, but I shook it off. Dr. Circe said that part of the protocol would be addressing the things I avoided because they triggered my thoughts of Will. That particular part was supposed to start in five more weeks, but I could jump ahead a little, right?

  “Almost there,” I told my agent as I braced the phone on my shoulder and entered the code on the driver’s side door. It swung open easily, and I used the running board that lowered automatically to climb up into the cab. God, that scent.

  The memory hit me hard.

  “William Carter, how in the sweet hell do you expect me to get up there in these?” I flashed my heels under my gown.

  His grin stopped my heart. “I’ve got you, Morgan. Don’t worry.” He reached into the pocket of his dress blues and pulled out his key fob, lowering the running board with the press of a button. “This might be easier, though.” In a moment that passed way too quickly, I was in his arms as he climbed up on the board and lifted me into the cab. “I wouldn’t want you getting that pretty dress all dirty.”

  I froze, one hand on the steering wheel and one on the console. My gaze rose to the visor, where his wings—the ones I’d pinned on him at graduation—were fastened. I sucked in a breath, but it only made it worse. Everything still smelled like Will, even after all this time. There was no escaping, no swallowing back the uninvited memory, no stopping the vise around my throat that tightened as my breaths came faster and faster.

  I arched my neck, trying to make enough room for air to flow freely, but every ounce of breath I sucked in was thick with the scent of Will. I loved him. God, I loved him, and now this was all I had. He was gone. We’d never get the homecoming kiss he promised me, or the chance to be as happy as our friends. Tears pricked my eyes, not just from the thoughts but from the physical pain of my throat closing.