“I love you, Morgan.” I kissed her one last time, effectively keeping her from muttering something like I adore you.
Then I headed toward Buxton, where Vivian’s house was just a couple blocks off Pamlico Sound.
Brie answered the door with a smile. “Finley!”
“Hi, Aunt Brie!” The two hugged, and I shut the door behind me so the cool air didn’t escape.
The Beach Boys blared from the speakers, and Claire danced her way in, singing about California girls. I had to laugh. She really hadn’t changed that much since college.
“Fin!” Claire stopped dancing and raced over, sweeping Fin into a hug. “Are you ready for the best Fourth of July ever?”
Finley nodded. “Yes! I brought cookies!” She lifted the Ziploc bag that Morgan had given her. “Morgan made them!”
Claire’s smile didn’t falter, but the happiness dimmed in her eyes. “Well, I bet they’re just sweet as can be!”
“Come on, Fin, let’s go find Grandma!” Brie took her hand and off they went.
“Her hair looks great,” Claire said softly.
“It really does,” I agreed, not wanting to draw any more blood than the cookies had.
“Morgan?” she questioned with a wince.
“Yeah, but if it makes you feel any better, she has Juno.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “That cat is the devil.”
“Incarnate, and yet our daughter doesn’t agree.”
Finley appeared through the window, dancing across the deck with Brie, and we both smiled. It was the least antagonistic moment I’d had with Claire since she came home nearly two months ago. Two months. It was the longest she’d ever stayed.
She hadn’t followed through on her threat to file for custody, but my lawyer had all my paperwork lined up just in case she changed her mind. I wasn’t losing Finley.
“How did that audition go?” I asked. “The one you had for that sci-fi show?”
Claire blinked up at me in surprise, looking so much like Fin did when I caught her sneaking candy that I almost laughed. “How did you know?”
“Redhead. Eleven o’clock.” I gestured to the windows.
“Oh. Right. I was going to tell you if I got it. I even asked the director about a commute-friendly schedule between here and L.A. for filming so I wouldn’t have to mess with our arrangements for Fin.” She tucked her thumbs in her back pockets—the same nervous tell she’d had in college.
“I think that would be great.” I meant it. If there was a way for Claire to have her career and Finley to have her mom, then I was all for it. “And we could always adjust some stuff to make it work.”
Her eyes lit up. “Like maybe she could come to L.A. with me?”
I stilled.
Claire pressed her lips in a line and dropped her gaze. “Figured that would be your answer. Okay, I’ll make sure I can commute for the next one. I didn’t get that one.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Happens. Besides, it gives me more time to house hunt. I need to find something local because my mother is killing me.”
Relief socked me in the gut. “I can give you the number for the Realtor I used.” House hunting meant she was serious about sticking around for Fin. This wasn’t just a whim that would pass now that she realized how serious I was about Morgan.
“That would be awesome. Now I’d better go save Finley before she picks up any of Brie’s dance moves. Have a happy Fourth, Jax.”
“You too, Claire.”
We did the awkward nod thing, and I took off. It took all of ten minutes to get to the station, and I hummed my way through the door.
Did it suck that I had to work instead of taking my girls to the fireworks? Absolutely. But Claire had quit the vindictive witch routine around Morgan and was settling in, which made Finley happier than I’d ever seen her, and I was madly in love with an incredible woman who I had every intention of keeping for the rest of my life. Not that I was saying that to her. Maybe once she admitted that she loved me, but until then, I’d keep my name-changing plans to myself. And work on making her so blissfully happy that she’d be just as addicted to me as I was to her.
I put my stuff in my locker and glanced at the calendar. The guys left in ten days. Fuck, I hated that they were going without me, but staying with Finley was more important than feeling like I’d contributed to the mission, right? Finley was my first mission, period. Being kept back—while shitty in some ways—was the biggest blessing I could have asked for, especially considering Morgan triggered every time someone said the D word around her.
Hopefully she’d relax about it once the guys were home, and as much as she rolled her eyes at Sawyer and Garrett, I knew she’d miss them, too.
“Montgomery, Captain wants to see you,” Javier announced from the doorway.
“Okay.” No doubt I was about to get a rash of shit for that little maneuver I’d pulled with the ski boat last week, but hey, everyone had come out alive.
I passed Garrett in the hallway and thrust the bag of cookies his direction. “Morgan made them, and she wants you to share.”
“Do I have to?” he questioned, already reaching inside for one.
“Unless you want me to tell her that you didn’t.” I raised my eyebrows.
He paused midbite. “I’ll share,” he promised with his mouth full.
“Good boy.” I gave his shoulder a healthy slap, then walked the rest of the way to Captain Patterson’s office. The door was closed, so I gave it a healthy knock.
“Come in.”
I opened the heavy door and walked in. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
Captain Patterson looked up from his paperwork and nodded, then removed his glasses to rub the skin between his eyes. For a man who never seemed to tire, he suddenly looked exhausted. “Good to see you, Lieutenant Montgomery. Why don’t you have a seat?” He motioned to the chairs.
I closed the door, which revealed Hastings in the furthermost one, his casted leg propped up on an upside-down trash can.
“Hey! How is it feeling?” I asked, sinking into the chair next to him.
He didn’t answer or look at me, just stared straight ahead at Captain Patterson with a tick in his jaw. Guy must have gotten some news he didn’t want, because I’d never seen him quietly pissed like this before.
Captain Patterson slid his glasses back over his dark brown eyes and leveled a pitying look on me that turned my stomach.
Oh, fuck.
“Jax, we need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Morgan
And I know I’m going to make it, because who the hell is good enough to shoot me out of the sky, right? Like I said yesterday, flying is flying no matter where you do it.
I cranked the ignition, and the engine turned over with a throaty purr I recognized all too well. Homework assignment complete for the third day in a row!
“You sure about this?” Sam asked from the passenger seat.
I slid my hands down the steering wheel and inhaled the scent of leather into my lungs.
“I don’t know if I can be what you want or what you need. There are parts of me that are permanently broken, and I don’t know if they’ll ever work quite right. The only thing I do know is that I’m never going to stop wondering about the what-ifs if we don’t give this a shot, because it’s been six months, and I swear I can still taste that kiss, Morgan.”
“Morgan. Are you sure you want to do this?” Sam asked again.
I blinked my way out of the memory and glanced up at the wings he’d left pinned to the visor. “Nope. I’m not sure,” I answered Sam as honestly as I could.
“Okay, well, let’s be certain before you put this monster in drive, because I might love you, but I’m not willing to die because you think you’re ready to skip ahead in your homework
and joyride.” She sent me an eyebrow raise that told me she was serious. “I have four months until I see my husband, and I intend on being there when he gets off that plane.”
Her voice caught with those last words, and my hand reached for hers. Last night had been rough. There had been reports of an Apache crash in Afghanistan, and while the media had reported all the facts but the names, the soldiers had been on blackout—all internet and phone services shut down—so those names wouldn’t be leaked until the next of kin could be notified. That meant hours of waiting, staring at our phones. Staring at our door.
The crash hit the news around noon.
Grayson didn’t get a chance to call until two a.m.
“You’re so much stronger than I am.” I squeezed her hand.
She scoffed and blew off the compliment. “I haven’t been through what you have. Not in the same way. I don’t know how Ember and Paisley ever let those boys fly after what happened.”
“I have no clue.” They were stronger than I was, too. All of them. But I was getting stronger. Every day. “You’re really okay after last night?”
“Yeah. I’m just heartbroken for those aviators and their families.”
“Me, too.” We may not have gotten the knock at our door, but someone had.
She forced a smile, but there was zero joy. “But I don’t want to think about it, so I’m not going to. Besides, we’re sitting in here for you.”
“So I can constantly lay out my emotional baggage, but you don’t have to?” I lifted my eyebrows as I teased her.
“I’m not here for my emotional baggage. I’m here for yours. Now why don’t you tell me how it feels having started this truck?” She gestured to the dash, and I smiled faintly as sunlight kissed her diamond and threw tiny dots of rainbows all through the cab.
“I still hear him,” I admitted quietly. “It’s less and less these days, but whenever I’m in here, I swear I can hear him sitting right next to me. Do you think that will ever go away?”
“Do you want it to?”
“I don’t know.” I ran my fingers over the soft, supple leather of the console that separated my seat from Sam’s. Will’s seat from mine. “In some ways, yes, because maybe that means I’m healing. Plus, I’d really like to not have an anxiety attack every time I get in this thing, and I know I’ll never sell it.” That would be like selling Will’s memory. “But I’m terrified that one day I’ll stop hearing him, and then I’ll forget the sound of his voice, his laugh, then I’ll start forgetting him. And I don’t want that, either.”
How did I make more room for Jackson in my heart without losing Will?
“That’s understandable,” Sam said, pivoting in her seat so she could look straight at me. “Do you want to drive?”
I felt my throat tighten, but it wasn’t as severe as it had been. “Not today.”
She sagged in obvious relief. I wouldn’t want to take a ride in a vehicle that gave the driver anxiety attacks, either. “You’re doing great, you know. The therapy, the homework, all of it. The tapes are sounding better and better, and you even made it through that hotspot thing with the funeral memory tape, though I don’t know any other woman in her twenties who would reward herself with Virginia Woolf.”
“Hey now, don’t mock the classics.” I looked over my shoulder to the cab, half expecting to see Will’s helmet bag and flight gear, but it was empty, of course. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Sam. And I know you’re headed home in a couple weeks, but I’m immeasurably grateful that you’ve stayed with me.”
She smiled. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
I looked over to Jackson’s house, then checked the clock on the dash. He usually napped the day he transitioned back to dayshift, which meant he should be waking up soon. My pulse jumped with anticipation.
“It’s okay to love him,” Sam said gently. “It doesn’t mean you loved Will any less. Or that you’re replacing him. He would want you to be happy.”
“That’s the thing. I’m usually happy around Jackson…when he’s not scaring the shit out of me and racing off to fly in a storm.” My hand closed around the sea-glass pendant, as if I could hold him by proxy, and my forehead puckered. There were very few times I’d been happy around Will. Sure, there had been nights like the ball and when he’d shown up at my house, but the angst definitely ruled the bulk of our relationship. “They’re so different from each other.”
“Night and day,” she agreed. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to compare them. It’s not like you have to make a choice.”
A choice? Between Will and Jackson? No, thank you.
She scoffed. “Girl, I said you don’t have to make a choice.”
I rolled my eyes and took another deep breath, searching my body for the usual signs that I was at my limit. “No anxiety attack.”
“No anxiety attack,” she agreed. “Look at you, getting all healthy and stuff.”
“Let’s get out of here. Maybe I’ll drive tomorrow.”
“How much of that anxiety medication do you have?” she questioned.
“What? For acute attacks?” I asked. “I haven’t taken rescue meds in…” I tried to think. “God, it’s been over a month now.”
“Right. I didn’t say they were for you. They’re for me riding along with you in this thing.” She lifted her eyebrows.
Our eyes locked, and we laughed. I still had a smile on my face as we climbed the steps to my house. I loved my little mushroom-shaped home. The teal paint, the white trim, the new, stronger decking. It felt like a stranger who had slowly become my best friend. My very expensive best friend.
The remodel was just about finished. The two other bedrooms upstairs needed to be gutted and redone, but I’d do that after Sam left so she wasn’t inconvenienced.
The whole-house generator had been ordered, and Steve was due to start the demo on the master bathroom next week.
I was finally going to have a bench in my shower so I could shave my legs without twisting myself into knots like the newest cast member of Cirque du Soliel. A bench where Jackson could sit while I straddled his lap—
Speak of the devil, why was Jackson’s Land Cruiser pulling in his driveway?
We stood on the deck as he parked in the garage.
“Hey, stranger,” I called out as he appeared, swinging a little paper bag.
He startled. “What are you doing up there?”
Sam leaned on the railing. “We’ve just been sitting here all day in the hopes that you’d pull up—and look! Here you are!”
My shoulders shook with laughter as he crossed our yard, but it died when he looked up at me and climbed the stairs.
He looked drained and tense. His cheeks were rough with a shift’s worth of stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot. Something was off.
“Are you okay?” I asked as he made it to the top.
“Yeah. No. I’m not sure. Can I have a second with you?” He held out his hand for mine.
I laced our fingers and nodded, then took him inside.
“I’ll give you guys some time,” Sam said, picking up on the vibe. She disappeared upstairs, and I led Jackson to the kitchen, where I sat him down on one of the new barstools that matched my white and gray theme.
He put the bag on the counter, where it promptly fell over, but he didn’t right it. He was too busy watching me like I was the one acting odd around here.
I grabbed him a bottle of water from my refrigerator, then unscrewed the top and put it in front of him.
“Thank you.”
“You look…”
“Like shit?” he suggested with a smirk.
“It’s impossible for you to look like shit. But you do need a nap. Why didn’t you go to sleep when you got off this morning?” Where the hell had he been all this time?
“I needed to grab something
I’d ordered last week, and then I just kind of drove.” He picked up the bottle and downed half of it.
“Did something happen? Could you not sleep?” Oh God, was Claire threatening a custody suit again? I stepped between his outstretched thighs and braced my hands on his shoulders. “Tell me what has you worried.”
He studied me like he’d never seen me before. “You’re beautiful.” He threaded his hand through my hair and palmed my waist with the other, then pulled me closer. “Kiss me, Kitty.”
Now that was something I could do.
I fit my mouth to his like so many times before and kissed him slow and deep, winding my arms around his neck. The world and its problems faded into the hazy background, leaving only Jackson and the way he made me feel. He changed the tempo with deft flicks of his tongue, and the kiss turned hungry and urgent…desperate, even. By the time we broke apart, our breaths were ragged. My pulse raced, and my lips felt swollen.
Never in my life had I been with a man who could erase the world in a single kiss the way he could. The power Jackson held over me was terrifying, but I knew he’d never use it against me. He loved me.
And I…I adored him. I was addicted to him. My heart leaped for him, and my soul felt whole when I was in his arms. Need, infatuation, connection…those were all things I felt for him, but loving him? That was an emotion—a power—I wasn’t sure I was capable of giving anyone else again. Love was a gift. I knew that. I felt it every time Jackson gave me those words. But loving someone also gave them the power to obliterate you.
“I brought you a present,” he said against my neck, pressing his lips to that sensitive spot beneath my ear. The scruff on his face was a delicious contrast to his soft lips.
“Does this present involve getting me naked? Because although I could be absolutely in favor of it, Sam’s upstairs.” I tilted my head to give him better access.
“It’s in the bag.” He lifted his head, and I nearly groaned at the loss. The thing about finally having Jackson was that I never felt entirely satiated. I wanted more and more of him. “Don’t look at me like that, or we’ll be at my place in thirty seconds, and there’s something we have to talk about first.”
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 32