2. Tucker
Chapter Two
TUCKER
The following day
“Dan loaded everything this morning,” Skylar Bridges’ voice came through my headset, low and throaty.
I doubted she knew I looked forward to hearing her voice every single day.
I was getting ready for takeoff and had called over to check on the status of the delivery I was scheduled to fly across Kachemak Bay.
I flew small planes for Walker Adventures.
I loved flying, and I loved my job. Best of all, the company was owned by one of my best friends from the Air Force, so everyone there was like family to me.
I smiled, thinking about how flustered Skylar had been when I’d accidentally encountered her in the men’s room the other morning.
“Got it. I’m taking off in a few minutes.”
I was flying two tourists along with some cargo across the bay. After I signed off, I hopped in the plane, did my pre-flight checks, and reflexively glanced into the mirror to make sure both passengers had their seat belts on. It was a couple traveling to Seldovia.
After taxiing toward the runway, I waited until another plane landed before I took off.
While Diamond Creek, Alaska, had a regular airport for commercial planes, this airport was adjacent to that one with a shorter runway for the lightweight aircraft that filled Alaska’s skies.
So many communities were off the road system that flying was the only way to reach them and bring in supplies.
I pondered Skylar’s comment yesterday about me not being chatty.
I knew it was accurate. However, it’d surprised me.
I was so used to hearing her voice it felt as if I had talked to her a lot more.
But those were mostly one-way conversations.
Skylar handled the radio calls for this little hub in Diamond Creek, Alaska.
Rural though Diamond Creek was, the town had a busy little airport.
Over fifty flights came in and out daily, all small planes with a mix of tourists, supply delivery, and residents from the smaller communities traveling in and out for various appointments and shopping.
It was a unique situation anywhere outside of Alaska.
As a pilot from my military days, this allowed me to fly in a fun way.
Although I knew Skylar’s voice well, I didn’t see her often. She was hard to forget, though. She had brown hair and wide blue eyes. She kept to herself as far as I could tell. Seeing as I did as well, I understood. Alaska was a good place for that. She’d shown up in town just last summer.
Savoring my privacy, I preferred to keep my social world small.
Even though I could admit I noticed Skylar in a major way, I needed to keep a clear boundary with her.
Not because of her, but me. All I ever wanted was casual, and Skylar tugged me to her in a way that tested my discipline.
My last serious relationship ended in a cold, sterile hospital.
I preferred not to repeat that experience.
I kicked her out of my thoughts. I didn’t need to dwell on Skylar, not today, not ever.
Many hours later that evening, I rolled my preferred plane into one of the hangars for Walker Adventures. I ran through the usual checks on the plane at the end of the day before locking the hangar and walking toward the parking area.
I stopped to look up at the sky, my breath catching in my throat.
Alaska could do that to anyone. Tonight, the sunset was outdoing itself.
The sky was painted with streaks of tangerine and red, fading into gold along the edges.
The stars were breaking through the colors, and the moon was rising low above the mountains.
On the heels of a breath, I began walking again and touched my keys in my pocket.
My boots crunched on the gravel as I angled across the parking lot toward my truck.
I came to an abrupt stop when I heard what I thought was the sound of a sob.
Glancing around, I didn’t see anyone at first. Then I heard the muffled noise again.
The only reason I knew someone was there was I saw the last rays of the sun catching on the top of someone’s head, someone with dark hair.
I didn’t even know what vehicle Skylar drove, but I suspected that was her. I told myself it was none of my business, and maybe she wasn’t crying. Of course not. She couldn’t be crying. But my feet veered in her direction when I began walking again.
“Everything okay?” I called, striving to keep my tone nonchalant.
Her head whipped up as she spun around. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” Her voice was clipped with a sharp edge.
Clearly, everything was not fucking fine. I could see the tears smeared across her cheeks. My heart twisted a little. “You sure?”
“Uh-huh.” Her hand was resting on the top of a small hatchback.
“That your car?” I asked, curiosity getting ahead of my brain telling me to shut the fuck up and stop asking any questions.
She nodded. “Yep.” There was a cargo compartment on top of it. It looked a little worse for the wear.
“Going somewhere?” I asked, gesturing toward it.
Looking a little sheepish, she shook her head. “No. I guess I could take it off.”
I shrugged. “Not if you need it.”
I stopped at the back of her car. I felt as if I were watching her pull on her composure like a jacket.
“It’s sentimental, really,” she offered.
“What do you mean?”
“I was supposed to come to Alaska with my best friend. That was hers. She got it for the trip but never made it.”
“Ah, so she decided not to come?”
I didn’t know how to describe the expression that passed across Skylar’s face, but it was a mix of emotions—sadness, anger, and deep hurt mingled with a dash of bitterness. She nodded. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
“Well, you might want to fix the latch on the other side,” I commented.
“What?” She scurried around the back of her car, eyeing it from below. “What do you mean? You’re taller than me, so I can’t tell.”
“It’s this,” I reached up and tapped the inside of the latch on the racks supporting the cargo container. One of the bolts was coming loose. “You want me to take care of it?”
“I can’t reach it very well,” she said.
Stepping closer to stand beside her, I reached up and wiggled the lock. “Do you have a key?”
“Here.” She reached into her pocket and handed me her keys.
Our fingers brushed, and it felt as if lightning sizzled up my arm.
I turned the key in the lock before reaching around to adjust the casing and manually tightening the bolt.
“There. You might want to get a wrench to tighten it more fully, but it should hold. I used to have these same racks on my old car. They loosen up after a while if you leave them on. Just check it occasionally if you’re going to keep it up there. ”
“I should probably just take it off.” She let out a quick breath.
“Not my call. Anyway, have a good night,” I said. The lightning that had sizzled up my arm felt like it was spinning fire into every cell, sending a jolt of electricity to my entire system. I backed away, lifting a hand. “Catch you later.”
“Thanks.” Her throaty voice carried through the quiet sounds of dusk as I crossed the parking lot.
I waited until she climbed into her car and left.
The sound of magpies chattering reached me, and I smiled to myself.
This time was for owls, but magpies were bossy.
They pushed into the space of every bird.
I climbed into my truck and drove home. The drive was twenty minutes or so, and beautiful every mile along the way.