The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory)

by Rebecca Yarros

“Deal.” He didn’t even hesitate.

  “You really should take a minute to think about it,” I encouraged.

  “Morgan, you just asked me for something that’s within my power to give you. It’s yours. I’m yours, awkward weekend and all, helicopter ride or not. I’m there.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I melted.

  Oh God, I was really fixing to do this.

  “Take me flying.”

  A half hour later, I was second-guessing my life choices as I stepped into the helicopter. I had on one of Sawyer’s flight suits since he was shorter than Jackson, and my feet were stuffed into boots at least four sizes too big. My hair was tucked up inside a flight helmet and the visor was down, shielding my eyes. It didn’t shield me from the scent, though. That metallic tang was exactly how Will had smelled after he’d spent a day in the cockpit.

  “We’ve got choices,” Jackson said through the headset as I stared at the relatively empty space. He pointed to the pair of seats at the rear. “You can have a more comfortable seat”—he swung his arm toward the front, where there were two smaller, far less stable-looking seats—“or you can be closer to me.”

  Garrett clipped himself into one of the rear seats and patted the one next to him. “Got room right here for you, Morgan.”

  The seats up front were perpendicular to Jackson’s , and just behind him. I’d even be able to touch him if I needed to. “Closer to you,” I answered.

  “That’s my girl.” He gave me a grin and got me buckled into the seat. My heart pounded to the rhythm of the rotors above us as Sawyer started the preflight.

  “Anyone see her?” Jackson asked Sawyer.

  “Nope. Told you it would be easy. Now you just sit back and relax, Morgan. We here at Coast Guard Air would like to welcome you aboard for today’s flight.” Sawyer grinned at me as Jackson tightened the straps of my harness. “We have a quick flight plan for you today involving a short pleasure tour of the Outer Banks. Unfortunately, no snacks will be provided. Please keep your hands inside the aircraft at all times, and remember that vomiting is considered rude.”

  My stomach turned.

  “I’ve got you,” Jackson promised, cupping my cheek under my helmet.

  I nodded, gritting my teeth as I prepared to kiss the earth good-bye.

  In through my nose, out through my mouth. I spent the remainder of the preflight time concentrating on my breathing so I didn’t let the panic win and send me running from the aircraft.

  “Here we go, Kitty,” Jackson said as we took off.

  My stomach dropped as we rose into the air, and I squeezed my eyes shut. What the hell was I doing in this thing? I had nothing to prove and everything to lose. And the vibrations through my seat were going to numb my ass at best and rattle my spine at worst. They were even stronger at my feet.

  “It’s no fun when you can’t see anything,” Sawyer teased, looking back from the cockpit.

  I opened my eyes and flipped him the bird.

  He laughed. “Your girl doesn’t think this is fun.”

  “If your ex-girlfriend went down in a bird and then died in a firefight, chances are you wouldn’t think this was fun, either,” Jackson snapped.

  Sawyer’s head whipped back, his eyes huge with apology. “Shit, Morgan, I didn’t know.”

  “Take the controls,” Jackson ordered.

  “I have the controls,” Sawyer responded, his focus completely devoted to the aircraft.

  Jackson’s hand reached back, and I took it. “You okay back there?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied.

  “The view is gorgeous if you look out the window,” he suggested, squeezing my hand.

  I leaned forward and gasped. The blue of the water against the sand of the beach made for a stunning contrast as we flew down the coastline, and I had to admit that he was right. The view was spectacular, entrancing, even, and something I only could have seen from the air. We flew miles down the coast, and eventually my body adjusted to the vibration and motion of the aircraft. My brain was an entirely different matter.

  “Coast Guard seven-five-three-niner, come in.” The radio blared through my headset.

  Jackson’s hand disappeared, and my coms went dead.

  Garrett nodded and his mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear him. What the hell was going on? Had someone seen them sneak me on board? Was Jackson going to be in trouble? Just as I was about ready to lose my ever-loving mind, the coms came back to life.

  “Morgan, we have a distress call,” Jackson said, not taking my hand because he was now the one flying.

  “We what?” My voice cracked.

  “We have a vessel that’s called in a mayday.”

  “Just a patrol,” Sawyer muttered.

  “There’s no injuries, and we’re the closest rescue team. I need you to just sit tight back there, okay, Kitty?”

  “Yeah. Okay.” My hands gripped the edges of my little seat as the aircraft changed course, pitching left. We were headed out to sea.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on the rhythmic beat of the rotors and my breathing, hyperaware of my throat. My heart pounded and my stomach dipped with the turn, but there was no looming anxiety attack…yet.

  This is fine. You’re fine. Jackson does this every day. He’s a great pilot. Top of his class, right?

  So was Will, my devil’s advocate whispered in my ear. And Josh, and Jagger for that matter.

  “Morgan, you okay up there?” Garrett asked. “Don’t worry, we’re the only ones who can hear you. They switched our coms to aircraft-only back here.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. I seemed to be doing a lot of that today, but my nerves didn’t matter compared to what those people had to be going through.

  “You’re faking it really well,” he assured me as he unbuckled.

  “ETA is three minutes,” Sawyer said through the headset.

  Garrett rose from his seat and kneeled before me. “I need you to sit right here and not move, okay? That’s all you have to do. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand. Sit. Don’t move.” I nodded for emphasis. There was zero chance in hell I was moving from this seat or getting in the way of saving someone.

  “This is totally routine, so don’t stress.” He stood and got ready to do whatever it was he did. He took two gray blankets from the rescue litter and set them on the seat next to me.

  “Don’t stress. Right,” I whispered.

  “Just keep breathing for me, Kitty.” Jackson’s voice was thick with worry.

  “I’m fine.” I even pitched my voice a little higher to prove it. “You just fly this thing, okay?” The last thing he needed to be thinking about was me.

  “We have a visual. ETA one minute,” Sawyer announced.

  Garrett unstrapped a wire cage from a tower directly in front of me and took it to the floor, where he formed it into a rectangular basket. Then he hooked himself onto a belt that attached to the ceiling and opened the door of the helicopter. The noise level skyrocketed, the wind whipped through the fuselage, and there was ocean as far as I could see. Whoever waited below us was out there all alone, and though I saw the helicopter as a death trap, I realized that for them, it was salvation.

  “I have a visual,” Garrett said as he leaned out the freaking door. “The adult male and child are clear of the landing area.”

  My chest tightened. There was a kid?

  “Do you need me back there, Harrison?” Sawyer asked.

  “No, sir. I’ve got this.”

  The helicopter slowed to a hover.

  “Prepare to drop the basket,” Sawyer said.

  Garrett got the thing hooked up to a wire that led outside the helicopter. “Basket ready.”

  “Deploy,” Sawyer ordered.

  “Deploying.” Garrett slid the basket out the door, and it hung just outside
the helicopter for a moment before he pushed a button, sending it down. Then my stomach lurched as the man leaned out again. Any farther and we’d be rescuing him, too. “Eyes on the basket.”

  We lost a little elevation, but that had to be on purpose, because no one panicked. Well, no one but me. This seat would probably need to be reupholstered after I dug my fingernails out of it. My heart raced, but still no throat issues.

  “Hold, sir.” Garrett’s head swiveled back and forth at whatever was beneath us for a minute. Maybe two. “Prepare to take the load.” Another pause. “Taking the load.”

  I sucked in a breath as the hoist lifted the basket. We’d saved at least one of them.

  “Roger,” Sawyer replied.

  Garrett dropped to his belly as his head hung out of the aircraft. “Load is halfway up.” He rose to his knees and reached for the wire. “Basket is about ten feet below the cabin.”

  “Roger.”

  “Five feet below cabin. Bringing the basket inside the cabin.”

  “Roger.”

  Garrett scrambled to his feet and hauled the rescue basket back inside the helicopter with a terrified boy and his father as its occupants.

  My breath released in an audible rush at the realization that we’d saved them both. We’d made it in time.

  “Basket is inside the cabin.”

  “Roger.”

  He disengaged the wire and closed the door, then got the boy out first.

  Mercy. He was soaking wet, shaking like a leaf, and his skin was pale against the bright orange of his life vest.

  I grabbed one of the blankets and reached for the boy’s hand. When he turned, I offered him a reassuring smile, tugged him closer, then shook the blanket once and wrapped it around him like a cape. “Is that better?” I asked, raising my voice so he could hear me over the beat of the rotors.

  He nodded, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. He clutched the blanket close, and Garrett led him to the seat he’d previously occupied.

  I handed the second blanket to the father, who took it with a grateful nod. The relief in his eyes was second only to shock as Garrett got them both situated in their seats.

  “We’re good to go,” Garrett said over the coms.

  “Roger,” Sawyer replied again.

  The helicopter pitched forward slightly, then banked left, taking us back to the coastline as Garrett took the seat next to me.

  “It’s a good thing we were close. That boat had another ten minutes, tops,” he said through our coms.

  “What sank it?” I asked.

  “Not my business.” He shrugged. “They’re alive. That’s my business. You did great, Morgan.”

  I scoffed. “I sat here and handed out blankets.”

  He grinned. “Like I said, you did great.”

  The father and son held hands, the son’s head falling to his dad’s shoulder as we flew back to the coast guard station. Ten minutes. That was all that stood between that family and the ocean. Ten minutes and Jackson’s crew.

  Ten minutes that Jackson’s parents hadn’t had.

  How many lives had he saved? How many kids still had their parents because of Jackson? Or Garrett? Or Sawyer?

  Had this been scary as hell? Yes.

  But it was humbling.

  “You okay there, Kitty?” Jackson asked.

  “I’m great.” I really was.

  “This is going to get a little complicated, so when we land, just stick with Garrett. I have to do a post-flight. Garrett, take her to the bunk room, would you?”

  “You got it,” Garrett answered.

  Landing was a blur, and I did as Jackson asked and waited with Garrett. First, I stayed right behind him in the hopes that no one would notice I was there as they off-loaded our evacuees. Lucky for us, we weren’t the center of attention.

  An hour after we landed, I sat on the farthest twin bed from the door inside the bunk room, staring up at the clock. My borrowed flight suit, boots, and helmet lay on the bed next to me, ready to be returned to their owners. “Is it supposed to take this long?” I asked Garrett.

  “Trust me, it’s fine. We’d have heard about it by now if we’d gotten caught.” He leaned against the door, occasionally looking through the small glass window to the hallway.

  “A quick, easy patrol, Morgan.” My voice dropped into a Jackson impression.

  Garrett laughed. “That was his plan, trust me.” A knock sounded at the door, and he looked through the glass. “About time,” he said as he opened the door.

  Jackson walked in, his flight suit unzipped just enough to reveal the T-shirt underneath. “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem.” Garrett gave me a two-fingered salute and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Jackson locked the door, peered through the window, and then came toward me with an apologetic smile. “So that turned out a little more adventurous than I’d hoped.” He sat down next to me, close enough that our thighs touched.

  “You think?” I tilted my head.

  He grimaced. “I mean, it could have been worse.”

  “You could have gotten caught.”

  “That, too.” He took my hand and laced our fingers. “I’m really sorry. I never meant for you to get caught up in that.”

  God, those eyes. They made me want to swim in them—swim in him.

  “I’m okay,” I assured him.

  “You sure? Because I’d planned on taking you for a pleasure flight so you’d see just how awesome flying can be, and instead I landed you smack in the middle of a rescue operation.” He faced forward and tensed. “While I’m really proud of the rescue, I fear that I may have failed Operation Reassure Morgan.” The muscle at his jaw flexed.

  My heart lurched.

  Letting go of Jackson’s hand made him startle, but I flat-out shocked him when I turned and slid my knee over his thighs to straddle him. I settled into his lap like I’d always belonged there and cradled the back of his head with my hands.

  “I’m okay,” I promised, looking him in the eye so he’d know I really was. “I handed out blankets and didn’t puke. You saved two people. I call that a win.”

  “You amaze me.” He gripped my hips lightly. “But I’m guessing it didn’t do much to calm your fears.”

  I slid my hands forward a bit so I could run my thumbs over his cheeks. “Does it terrify me that you fly? Yes. That didn’t change, and I don’t think it’s ever going to.”

  “I don’t blame you.” His face fell slightly.

  “Shh, I’m talking.” I placed one thumb over his lips.

  His eyes flared, and he raked his teeth over the pad of my thumb, then swiped his tongue over it.

  My body flooded with warmth, and it took a second to remember what I was saying. “Yes, I’m scared, but seeing what you did out there? I understand it now, too.”

  His grip tightened. “You do?”

  He looked so hopeful that I couldn’t help but smile. “I do. There’s a chance that family wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been out there.” I kissed his forehead. “I was so proud of you.”

  He sucked in a breath, then pulled back with a smirk. “Wait, you were proud of me?”

  “I still am. Now stop fishing for compliments, Jackson Montgomery.”

  His eyes dropped to my lips, and I barely parted mine before he kissed me. Mercy, I loved this man’s mouth. The first touch of our lips was soft, but it quickly deepened. I tilted my head as his tongue met mine, and a shock of electricity raced down my spine. He tasted sweet today, like orange soda and something uniquely Jackson, as he took my mouth in strokes that varied from hard and deep to swirling and lazy. He kept me leaning in for more, and the minute I’d get it, he’d change the pace.

  When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. I caught his lower lip between my teeth and tugged gently. I was
n’t ready for this to be over.

  He groaned, taking full control, and I gladly gave it to him. I rocked forward, and he grabbed my ass, bringing our hips flush. He was hard and made no apology for it as he threaded a hand through my hair and kissed me senseless.

  How was it possible for a man to rob me of every single thought? I whimpered slightly when he started on my neck, his lips teasing every one of my sensitive spots like he had a freaking map. His hair was soft under my fingers, and I gripped it, seeking something—anything that might hold me to the earth while my body felt like it was gearing up for flight.

  “You drive me insane. Do you know that?” he asked with his mouth at my throat. I arched to give him better access, and he took it. God, he felt good. “You’re all I think about. All I dream about.”

  “Jackson,” I moaned in answer. Every kiss, lick, and nip sent waves of need through my limbs that pooled deep in my belly. Desire rose so fast and strong it felt like a dam breaking all the way in my soul, flooding me with feelings I didn’t need to keep locked up anymore.

  He pressed kisses down the center of my chest, and when he reached the buttons of my sleeveless blouse, I popped them free.

  Our eyes locked, and I rose slightly, tilted my hips forward, and slid down the length of him.

  “Fuck, Kitty.” He hissed. Then his mouth fused with mine in the kind of kiss that I had only read about. The ones that altered the universe and left you addicted. I wasn’t even sure there was a universe, anymore. There was only Jackson. Jackson’s hands. Jackson’s mouth. Jackson’s body beneath mine.

  His hand slid inside my open shirt to cup my breast through my plain white bra. I suddenly wished I’d gone shopping or simply cared enough in the last couple of years to own more than two colors of lingerie.

  “Please.” I leaned into his touch, and he lifted my breast from the cup, rubbing his thumb over my nipple so it hardened for him.

  “Perfect,” he murmured against my lips, then dipped his head and lifted me slightly so he could take the peak between his lips.

  I moaned at the sweet sensation, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I reveled in the pleasure his mouth gave me. His tongue was magic, and his teeth awakened every nerve ending with delicate scrapes.