11. Elias
Chapter Eleven
ELIAS
A sense of peace rolled through me as I leveled the small plane in the air once we reached cruising altitude. Cruising altitude in a small two-seater plane was very different from that of larger planes that crisscrossed the skies. At this height, the mountains with the waters of Kachemak Bay glittering under the sun below us were close enough it felt almost as if you could reach out and touch them.
“Damn, it feels good to be flying again,” I commented into my headset.
Glancing to the side, I caught Diego flashing me a quick grin. “I bet it does. How’s your ankle feeling?”
At the moment, my ankle was resting on the floorboard. I flexed it, giving it a careful rotation. “Not one hundred percent, but definitely good enough to be flying.”
“Good,” he said firmly. “I can’t imagine going that long without being in the air.”
“Not as bad as it was the last time,” I replied.
“I suppose not. I forget you were grounded for six months before.” He was quiet for a moment before adding, “Any pain leftover?”
I shrugged. “Little bit. I’m guessing I’ll be able to predict the weather with this ankle for the rest of my life, but nothing that ibuprofen can’t knock back.” A thread of tension tightened across my shoulders, and I shifted them against the seat.
My last bout with recovery hadn’t been a plane crash. Well, except for the fact that a friend of ours—Greg—had been in the crash. I’d been on the crew that responded to help. While we’d been working, there’d been a gas explosion. It hadn’t injured me in a life-threatening way, but I got some serious burns where the fabric on the back of my shirt caught fire. Burn pain is like nothing else. They gave me pain meds. Good shit was what that stuff was. Inside of a few weeks, my body wanted more. The emotional aftereffects of my survivor’s guilt because Greg didn’t make it and I did, made me love the pillowy numbness those painkillers offered.
Not many people knew about that brief episode in my life, except Diego, Flynn, Tucker, and Gabriel. Almost every single fucking person that I worked with now. God, I fucking loved those guys, but I occasionally hated how they checked in with me about pain.
“You’re not asking, but there’s nothing to worry about. I haven’t had cravings in over five years. Fortunately, the doctors here didn’t even try to give me that shit.”
When I stole a glance of Diego again, he was looking ahead. As if he felt my eyes on him, his gaze slid sideways. “I wasn’t worried about you, or that.”
My skin felt itchy with annoyance. I hated my own hypersensitivity about my brief tumble into addiction. “Fine,” I grumbled.
Diego chuckled. “You are fine. Now, pick up the pace. The wind’s down, and the sun’s out. That’s unicorn weather in these parts.”
I chuckled, adjusting the speed. We flew along the edge of the bay, making stops in three villages to deliver mail and groceries. When Flynn texted me about coming out to Alaska to work for him, I hadn’t realized how much I would love it. Oh, I loved flying, that was practically as vital to my sanity as breathing, but the beauty was breathtaking and a balm to my soul. I also loved the remoteness of some of the places we went. We were greeted by children and anybody who happened to be around—people driving four-wheelers loaded up with groceries to deliver them to the small stores in these far-flung communities. We weren’t a passenger service, at least not for these trips. We mostly flew tourists for crazy money and made deliveries. Here and there, if we had room, we’d pick up somebody in a pinch. Today, we scooped up an elderly woman and her niece for a doctor’s appointment because she missed one of the regular flights earlier.
“How are you doing today, Marge?” Diego called over his shoulder once we were up in the air. “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”
Marge’s dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners in her weathered face as she beamed at Diego. “I’ve been too busy helping Shana with her new café.”
“Café?” Diego prompted.
I had a good view of both of them in the mirror we had mounted up front. We didn’t need it like a car driver did, but it was handy for conversation.
Both Marge and Shana had their hair pulled back in a ponytail. Marge’s dark hair was streaked with silver. Shana had blue eyes to her grandmother’s brown, but otherwise, it was clear as day they were related. They looked so much alike, and their smiles were identical.
Shana grinned. “I started a coffee shop at the back of our grocery store. We’re not as high end as Red Truck Coffee, but Cammi gave me all her pointers, so it keeps us busy.”
“Making money too,” Marge added.
“If your coffee is even close to Cammi’s, you’ll be making money for years to come,” Diego offered.
Of course, there could be no mention of Cammi without my mind spinning back to the feel of my fingers buried inside of her and her body shuddering with her release. Fuck me. Cammi had ruined me.
We lapsed into easy conversation, chatting about the early rush of tourists that would clog up the roads, and the weather, because the weather could be discussed at any time, and how messy mud season was.
After we landed and waved goodbye to Marge and Shana, Diego and I did the usual engine checks on the plane, and then crossed over to our trucks. “You headed straight back?” he asked with his hand resting on the side of his truck.
“Nah, I’m gonna swing by and pick up Cammi to bring her up to her SUV. She had a flat tire last night, and I changed it this morning,” I offered, knowing that was only going to be fodder for questions.
Diego’s brows hitched up. His eyes took on a gleam as one side of his mouth kicked up in a sly grin. “Nice of you to take care of that for her.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’d have done the same thing.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “True.” He offered nothing further and simply lifted his hand in a quick wave before he climbed in his truck and drove away.
I knew that wouldn’t be the last of his comments about Cammi. Especially now that I’d gone and invited her to the fundraiser. It was crazy really, and I didn’t care. Even though I should’ve cared.
* * *
A few minutes later, I pocketed my keys and approached Red Truck Coffee. It was mid-afternoon, and there was a line. No surprise there. Cammi was busy making coffee, while another woman who looked to be just out of high school was rapidly taking orders. Seeing as I could use a coffee, I got in line.
I took the moment while I waited to look around. The sky was still clear with a soft breeze coming off the bay. Otter Cove Harbor was visible from here. The small cove was tucked off the main bay with low rock cliffs at the base of the mountains on one side and leveling out to a rocky, gray sandy beach on the other.
Boats were starting to stream in from a day of fishing. The wind was picking up slightly from this morning, ruffling the surface of the bay in the distance. I still marveled that I lived somewhere where I could enjoy two things I loved, the ocean and the mountains.
I was a military brat and had grown up with my dad in the Air Force. Our family bounced all over the place until my dad died while on duty. I still missed him. My family stayed where he’d been stationed at the time for a while, and then we moved to where my mom’s parents lived in western Oregon. I loved the mountains there. I’d fallen in love with the ocean when we lived near the beach in Texas once.
The views in Alaska were so fucking beautiful they took my breath away. Nature was such a show off sometimes, and I loved it. I heard the screech of an eagle, followed by the loud chatter of a crow. I looked up in the sky to see a fearless crow harassing an eagle in the air. The size differential between the two birds was remarkable, but the crow was relentless and eventually chased the eagle off, perhaps due to sheer annoyance, but it was still effective. A moment later I realized what the crow was after when it flew down to land by a discarded sandwich at the edge of the parking lot.
“You’re up,” someone said from behind me.
I stepped forward to find Cammi’s employee smiling at me politely. She had a fresh face and a tomboyish vibe with her dark hair short, like Cammi’s used to be when I first started coming here. “What can I get for you?” she chirped.
Cammi happened to look up right then, and a lightning bolt of awareness struck me, sizzling straight to my balls. A wash of pink crested on her cheeks as we stared at each other for a moment. She snapped out of it first, commenting, “I’ve got it. Elias always wants a triple shot Americano.”
Her helper smiled cheerfully. “Okay, that’ll be three-fifty.”
I handed over a ten-dollar bill, replying, “Keep the change.”
“Give him some freaking change,” Cammi added as her eyes bounced to the cash I handed over.
The girl looked uncertain. “Just because,” I added, “don’t give me any change.”
“Amy, give him some change,” Cammi said firmly, as she prepped my coffee.
She cast a quick glare in my direction, her cheeks going a little pinker. I suddenly recalled just what we’d been doing on the very counter where she was serving me.
I dropped the silly argument about change. “Okay, fine. Give me three dollars change.”
Cammi made a funny little sound, but she said nothing further.
I stepped to the side as the next person began ordering and rested my elbows on the edge of the serving window. “Will you be ready to go soon?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
She looked up and awareness sizzled in the air between us. “Give me fifteen minutes? If that’s too much trouble, I can get a friend to take me up there. It’s busy, and I don’t wanna leave Amy alone yet.”
“Fifteen minutes is fine,” I assured her. “I need to get some gas anyway. I’ll go do that and come back. Okay?”
“You sure?” She handed me my coffee, and our fingers brushed as I took the cup from her. Fire chased over the surface of my skin from that subtle touch.
“I’m sure,” I said before stepping away just as Amy called over, “A chai latte, and a latte with an extra shot and caramel syrup, two pumps.”
Cammi cast me an apologetic smile, but I lifted my fingers in a wave as I turned and strode back to my truck.