“God damn it!” Morgan shouted, throwing her weight into the slams of the heavy door. “Stupid. Fucking. Helicopters!”
“She doesn’t usually swear,” Sam noted.
“Picked up on that. Think she’s picturing me?” I questioned, my voice lowering. Every time she slammed the door, my heart felt the impact.
“Probably.” She shrugged, then sighed, watching her friend.
“I never meant to hurt her.”
“Guys like you never do.”
“Know a lot of guys like me?” I challenged, still staring at the woman I couldn’t get out of my head.
“A few.” She huffed.
“Is she going to be all right? Have you seen her do this before?” God, I wanted to wrap my arms around Morgan, but I somehow doubted she’d let me comfort her when I was the one who’d hurt her in the first place.
“Open the door or rage out her feelings?” Sam questioned.
“The feelings. I know all about the door.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw her look at me like I might not be as stupid as she first thought. “Huh. I’m glad. And no, I’ve never seen her lose her shit like this. She usually shoves it all inside for fear of hurting someone else with her own feelings. She’s an expert emotional masochist.”
I watched Morgan rage, seeing it differently with that knowledge. “So, while she obviously hates me, at least it’s good that she’s letting it out.”
Morgan screamed out her hatred with another slam, proving my point.
“Did she have an anxiety attack when you told her that you’re a pilot?”
“No. She yelled. A lot. But no anxiety attack that I could tell.”
Sam sighed in obvious relief. “Then I’d call that tantrum over there progress, and we’re just going to wait over here and let that fire burn itself out.”
“God, she’s so pissed at me.” I shoved my hands into my pockets.
“Yeah, she is.”
“How could you do this to me? You made me fall for you!” Morgan’s voice was turning hoarse from screaming.
I sucked in a ragged breath. She’d fallen for me? That had to be a good thing, right? That meant I had a shot.
“You let me think we had a chance, and then you yanked the rug! You kissed me, and you told me I was beautiful! You told me we’d try! You promised we’d finally be together, and then you fucking left me! How could you do that to me? How could you die for them and not live for me? I hate you! You ruined my life! I loved you, and you ruined me!”
Nausea gripped me hard and fast.
“I don’t think you’re the one she’s picturing anymore,” Sam said softly, squeezing my arm to pull the sting from her words. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll take care of her.”
“I don’t want to leave her.” Not like he had. Morgan needed to know that I wasn’t the guy who walked away.
“That wasn’t a suggestion. Go home, Jax. Give her a little space to wrap her head around what you told her. If you can’t tell, the last flyboy she fell for shattered her into a million little pieces, and she’s still trying to put herself back together.” She squeezed my arm again. “Go. You can’t help her right now, and once she calms down and realizes she’s spent the better part of ten minutes screaming at a ghost and taking it out on his truck, she’s going to be even more embarrassed that you witnessed it.”
Logically, I knew she was right, but everything in my body rebelled at the thought of walking up my stairs. “I want her, Sam. We have something, and I’m not going to let her go without a fight.”
“Fight tomorrow, Jax. She’s engaged in a whole other battle right now.” She patted my arm and walked toward Morgan, who was still slamming that door like it had personally broken her heart.
I ripped my eyes from Morgan and headed for my house. Halfway up my stairs, the slamming stopped, and I turned to see Morgan fall into Sam’s arms. Fuck, I could hear her sobbing from here. The sound tore right through my ribs and raked giant gashes down my heart.
Sam looked at me over Morgan’s shoulder and shook her head.
I got the message. Locking every muscle in my body to avoid rushing to Morgan’s side, I stood silently and watched Sam lead her up the stairs and into her house. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I would go over and plead my case.
My footsteps felt heavy as I trudged up my steps, but I made it. I gave Morgan’s door a long, heavy look and then unlocked my own door, so flustered that it took me a couple tries to get the damned thing open.
I threw my keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and twisted the top off. All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t help this situation.
“It’s about time you got here. I’ve been waiting for ages.”
I crushed the bottle in my fist at the sound of her voice, and water gushed over my hand as I whipped around to see her standing at the end of the counter.
Claire. She smirked and tilted her head, her hair falling in soft auburn waves to rest below her shoulders left bare by the design of her shirt. She was beautiful, but for the first time in the seven years I’d known her, that beauty didn’t stir me. It didn’t so much as entice or attract me, either.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I growled.
“Me?” She blinked, all innocent, and then her expression changed into a smile that was worthy of all those movies she’d walked out on us for. “Oh, Jax, I told you I’d come home to you.”
Chapter Twelve
Morgan
I don’t know how to thank you for what you’ve brought to my life. You were there when no one else was. You pinned those wings on my uniform graduation day, and if…if the worst has happened, then I pray you use those same wings to fly.
“And those are the new windows they installed this week. Watch this!” Sam pointed the laptop toward the windows that now spanned the entire east side of the first floor. “Morgan, press the button!” she urged over her shoulder.
“What am I looking at exactly?” Grayson’s voice filled the living room, and I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for the remote. Sam was always happiest when she got the chance to Skype with him.
“Watch this!” I called out, then pressed the top button on the remote Steve had given me two days ago.
The line of windows split in the middle of the house, the panels retracting and stacking on their individual tracks until the entire wall stood open to the ocean, minus the three support beams Steve swore they could do nothing about.
The breeze filled the house, ruffling the pages of my book. I sank farther into the couch and drew my knees up to shelter the hardback.
“Shit. That’s impressive.” High praise coming from Grayson Masters.
“Right? But all hell breaks loose if we open the front door at the same time. We learned that one the hard way,” Sam told him.
My entire renovation file had turned into that letter scene from Harry Potter. Papers had flown everywhere. Just remembering the pain of picking them all up and getting them back in order was enough to make me press the middle button.
The windows reversed their previous pattern until they formed a solid wall against the wind.
“I bet it does. Hey, Morgan?” Grayson called out.
Sam pivoted the laptop so I found myself staring at the Apache pilot’s face. Guy was a bodybuilder, and from the unforgiving cut of his already-carved chin, I guessed he spent most of his free time at the gym over there.
“What do you want, Grayson?” I teased, the tone coming easily. Being myself around him was easier than with the others. Then again, he’d had a front-row seat to my painfest, so it wasn’t like I had to hide anything around him.
A corner of his mouth lifted to what could almost be called a smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Morgan.”
“It’s always lovely to see your happy, shiny face.”
I laid on the accent thick and gave him a nose scrunch that made Sam laugh.
“Tell me you’ve thought about hurricanes with those giant-ass windows.” His smile slipped.
I scoffed. “Turn your husband around, Sam.”
“Watch this,” she told him as she turned him to face the now-closed windows.
I pressed the bottom button on the remote and was immediately rewarded with a whirring sound. The room fell dark as the metal shutters descended, finally locking into place just below the deck level.
“Now that is sexy,” Grayson remarked.
“European rolling shutters,” I said loud enough for him to hear me, then pressed the button again and watched as the shutters rose, drenching the room with light.
Sam beamed at the laptop, and I looked away, giving my attention to my book.
“I take that back,” Grayson said. “You’re the sexy one. God, I miss you, baby.”
“I miss you, too,” she answered quietly, her voice tinged with sadness.
I looked at the words on the page but didn’t read them. What if this was the last time she got to talk to him? What if his helicopter crashed just like Will’s had?
“Do me one favor?” Sam asked as she settled onto the other end of the couch.
“Anything,” he promised.
My heart ached, but I shook it off. Did I want a love like that? Yes. But was I jealous of what they were going through right now to make it work? Hell no.
“Tell Morgan to forgive Mr. Hottie-Coast-Guard-Rescue-Pilot next door?” she asked her husband sweetly.
My head popped up, and I gave her a good glare. She blatantly ignored me.
“Hell no. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”
“I knew I loved you for a reason, Grayson,” I called over to him.
Sam rolled her eyes. “Fine, at least tell her that she has to talk to him,” she said, turning her head and aiming those last words right at me. “That man has left her a piece of sea glass on the doorstep every single day since she told him off. Every. Day. At least hear his side of the story.”
My eyes drifted to the small pile on the side table. Six pieces in all.
“I know all the story I need to,” I retorted, trying to focus on the letters that filled the page. “He flies a glorified version of the same damned helicopter as Will. End of story.”
“If he’s a Blackhawk guy, you tell her to run,” Grayson teased. “If she’s going to fall for a pilot, at least make sure he flies a real bird.”
“It’s a Jayhawk,” I fired back before I could stop myself. Funny what you could learn on Google.
Sam sent me a knowing smile, and I glared for good measure.
“If you cared enough to look his shit up, then it’s not the end of the story,” Grayson remarked.
“No more love for you, Mr. Masters,” I replied. “You know he looked Will up online, right?” That would get Grayson back on my side.
He swore, and I lifted a corner of my lips in a slight smirk. It felt good to be right.
“If he’s that into you, I can’t really blame him. If I’d thought someone stood between Sam and me? I wouldn’t have stopped at a Google search.”
“Traitor.” My eyes narrowed.
“That’s my man.” Sam’s smile was contagious, and I found myself shaking my head with a slight scoff of a laugh.
In truth, the only reason I hadn’t googled Jackson’s ex was because I didn’t want to know anything about her or anyone who could walk away from their family the way she had.
The creak of a door opening sounded from the laptop, and a muffled voice came over the speaker.
“Shit. I have to go, baby. I love you.”
“I love you,” she replied. “Be safe, okay?”
“Always,” he answered.
Then he was gone.
Sam shut the laptop, then held it to her chest as her head fell to the back of the couch. “I miss him so damned much.”
“I know you do. I’m sorry.” I closed my book, then scooted so that I sat next to her. “What do you want to do today? We can do anything you want.” I’d already listened to this week’s recording of the Will story and rewarded myself with a trip to Christina’s shop, where I’d spent an hour looking at all the gorgeous sea-glass necklaces she had, so my day was wide open.
“Anything?” Sam asked, her eyes sad as she stared up at the new, swirling ceiling fan.
“Anything,” I assured her.
She sat up and put the laptop on the coffee table. “Good! Because I want you to stop wallowing and go talk to Jackson.”
“Anything but that.” I got off the couch and abandoned my copy of To The Lighthouse on the table.
“Come on, Morgan. You’re miserable. You’ve been miserable for the past week! I’ve given you time to process, but now you’re just stewing, and I’m not going to sit here silently while you push him away.” She followed me as I headed toward the kitchen. It was the next major renovation.
“News flash. I’ve been miserable for the past two years,” I fired back. Next week it would be exactly two years, and though I tried not to think about the approaching date, it lingered in my mind every possible minute. “And it’s not like we have some relationship that I’m losing. He’s just a guy who lives next door.” I got out two glasses and set them on the counter. “Tea?”
“Only if it’s sweet,” she replied, leaning back against the Formica.
“Honey, it’s the South. It’s always sweet.” I poured us two glasses.
“He’s not just a guy who lives next door,” she argued, then thanked me for the tea as I passed her a glass. “He’s the guy you want. The guy you said kissed like a god.”
“Maybe I overexaggerated.” I sipped my tea, knowing full well that I hadn’t. Kissing Jackson was a religious experience. The man knew exactly what he was doing in that department, and he did it so well that my heart picked up the pace just thinking about it. If that man could rev me up using only his mouth, what would the rest of his body be capable of?
“Uh-huh,” she challenged, lifting her eyebrow as she called out my bullshit.
“None of that matters,” I grumbled. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results, and I’m not involving myself with another heartbreak just waiting to happen when I haven’t fixed myself from the last one.”
“You don’t know that he’s a heartbreak,” Sam argued. “What if he’s the love of your life and you miss out because you were too stubborn to walk across the damned yard and talk like adults?”
That wasn’t possible. Will was the love of my life. Wasn’t he?
But what if he…wasn’t?
Damn, was I a horrible person for even thinking that?
“Morgan?” Sam asked, clearly expecting an answer.
I blinked, trying to recall what she’d said. “Even if he wasn’t a pilot, it wouldn’t work. The man is in love with his ex. Whether or not he denies it, I heard it in his voice when he talked about her. I’m not getting involved with someone who sees me as some kind of consolation prize. No, thank you.”
Sam sighed. “And again, you don’t know that. You’re assuming. We have so few chances to be happy. I almost missed out on my chance with Grayson because I was sure that he still loved Grace, and now I can’t imagine what my life would have looked like without him in it.”
What did my life look like without Jackson? My heart stuttered in protest, but I couldn’t trust that thing, anyway. I’d been through worse. I’d survive. What I wouldn’t survive was the moment he inevitably crashed into the damned ocean.
“That’s different.” I shook my head. “You guys are the definition of fate and happily ever after.”
“We’re the definition of a really good fight,” Sam countered. “Look, I know the guy lied, and if wh
at you’re doing is punishing him with your silence, then I’m all for it. Make him suffer until you feel he’s paid the price for being an asshole and hiding his job from you.”
“Hiding his job? It’s not that simple.” I braced my hands against the counter as my stupid, foolish heart split in two, one side siding with logic and self-preservation and the other…siding with him.
“I know that.” She set her glass down and gave me the motherlode of all sighs. “What do you like about him?”
“What?”
“Humor me.” She shrugged. “What could it possibly hurt to answer? It’s not like he’s listening or you’re giving him hope or something.” Her eyebrows rose. “Unless you’re scared that talking about it is going to make you rush up his stairs and jump him like you did at the top of that lighthouse, which, by the way, gives that boy an A-plus in the romantic date category, I don’t care how pissed off you are.”
The uninvited memory of his eyes in the moonlight and his arms around me smacked me in the heart, followed by the way his kiss had robbed me of every thought except more and now.
“Fine,” I growled, ignoring Sam’s little clap of happiness. “I like that he sees me. Not just the shell that everyone does, but he actually sees me. It’s like the man has X-ray vision for bullshit, because I can’t fake anything around him, and in a way, it’s so much easier because I don’t even have to try.”
“Okay. And?” she urged me on, hopping onto the counter and kicking her feet.
“And I like that he’s a really good dad. Finley comes first, and he makes no excuses for that. His sun rises and sets on that little girl, and it might sound weird, but that’s ridiculously hot.”
“That’s not weird. That’s thousands of years of biology.” Sam shrugged. “What else?”
I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I like that he pushes my boundaries, though I wish he’d let us stay in every once in a while. And I like that he’s patient with me and so very careful, but he doesn’t treat me like I’m breakable or weak. He just treats me like I’m something precious.”
“Because you are,” she assured me.
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 18