Chapter Thirty-Six
“Hey, baby,” I say to my phone as soon as the video call connects, flipping my middle finger as Evan makes a mock gagging sound from somewhere behind me. “Look what I’m wearing.”
I pan the camera down my legs, the bar stool allowing me to stretch them outward comfortably as the RecoverRx boots do their thing.
“They’ve been helping?” Wyatt asks, positioning his phone on his nightstand. I scan the screen, and my eyes hungrily eat up his profile—no shirt, dark sweatpants, and tousled hair. There’s a suitcase open on his bed, clothes piled nearly beside it, and what looks like his toiletry bag.
“I think so,” I reply, propping my cell against my kitchen wall before looking contemplatively at the boots. “Evan thinks they’re a load of shit, but that doesn’t stop him from stealing them all the time.”
“It’s called borrowing,” Evan says, then stands behind me to lean over my shoulder. “Looking good, Mr. Sexy Pilot Man.”
Wyatt barely acknowledges my partner, continuing to meticulously pack his things. I glance at Evan as he heads to my fridge and helps himself to a protein shake.
“Well, he’s definitely stealing my food,” I say, waiting for a sarcastic comment from Wyatt, only to get nothing. That’s weird. By now, there would have been snarky remarks firing back and forth between the two men.
“Are you getting ready for your boys’ trip?” I ask, awkwardness making my skin tingle as he doesn’t appear to hear me. Moving closer to the screen, I watch as he throws a shirt across his room before picking up another one and adding it to his case. “Wyatt? Are you listening?”
“Sorry, baby,” he says vacantly, not looking at the camera.
“That’s okay. I just asked if you were ready for this weekend?”
“Not really,” he replies, balling up another shirt and throwing it away.
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll pack in no time,” I tell him, the small talk almost painful.
What is wrong with him today?
“Uh-huh.”
I tug at the front of my shirt, unease making the fabric feel too tight. Somethings up with him. He wasn’t like this the other day when I called him after practice and he told me about Fiona and Sadie. Even when I brought up his search for a therapist—a topic I thought would have been awkward—he was fine.
Chatty, laughing, engaging . Not like now.
“How was the flight to Maine yesterday?” I ask, hoping that if I bring up planes, he’ll stop being so distracted.
“Maine?” he repeats, and he sounds confused.
“Yeah, Dad and Nancy were going to Maine to visit her sister.” Watching him walk across his room and rummage through his drawers, I tilt my head as if the angle might help see him better, but his back is to the screen, barely aware we’re even on a call. “I—I thought you were flying him?”
He straightens, his hands still inside a drawer until he itches his head. “Uh, that was Liam.”
“Oh, is Alistair back now?”
“Guess so,” he says, like he’s not quite sure.
“Cool.” There’s a pregnant pause, and I can’t help but feel like he’s avoiding me. Not once has he actually looked into the camera, or asked me any questions, or sounded like he remotely wants to speak to me.
“So, boys’ trip…” I say in another attempt to talk to my man. “What have you got planned?”
He walks toward his nightstand, the phone shaking as he picks it up, and for the first time since he answered, I can see his beautiful blue eyes. Except they’re still not looking into the camera, not looking at me at all.
“Listen, Pippa, I’m sorry, but I need to go. Can I call you later?”
“Yea—” The video call cuts off, and I’m left staring at myself on the blank screen. The RecoverRx boots beep, signally the end of the program and Evan’s by my side in a shot.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” he says, pumping his fingers.
Slowly, I unfasten the boots. “That was weird, right?”
“What was?” he asks, as he helps me slide my legs out of them.
“Wyatt. Did he sound distracted to you?”
Evan takes the seat beside me, fastening himself into the thigh-high boots. “No idea, babe, I was too busy picturing all those tattoos.” I punch his arm, and he looks up with a furrowed brow. “What?”
“Didn’t you notice something was up?” Reaching over, I unlock my phone. “I mean, he didn’t even say anything about you being in my apartment, freeloading off of me.”
“ Meh, I didn’t notice,” Evan shrugs, selecting a program on the keypad and groaning when it begins.
Sliding from my stool, I pull up my text thread with my dad and type out a message.
Pippa
I know I said I was staying in CO for Worlds, but can you ask Liam or Alistair if they’d mind flying out on Friday?
Dad
Are you sure? I thought you were flying with the team to Montreal Monday?
Pippa
I am… So if it wouldn’t be too much to fly me back Saturday morning? I know Wyatt’s on PTO this weekend, otherwise I’d ask him.
Dad
I’ll get it sorted.
Pippa
LOVE YOU DADDY
I feel on edge as I walk on board the Gulfstream Friday afternoon, hating how awkward I feel after spending so much time on the other plane. It’s funny how, after getting the new one, it feels like it belongs to just me and Wyatt.
What also doesn’t make me feel any better is the frosty reception from Liam or the lack of acknowledgment from Alistair from the cockpit.
The rest of the flight isn’t much better either. Where usually, Liam would check in and let me know how the journey was shaping out—something Wyatt had made him do when he flew with us—he ignores me. And when I try to smile at him when we land in Westchester, he’s weird, almost skittish around me.
“Okay, what’s up?” I ask, cornering him in the cockpit after Alistair has left to do the final checks before leaving.
“Oh, Miss Cartwright.” He practically recoils in his chair, using his clipboard like a shield as I tower over him, my arms crossed. “I—I didn’t see you.”
“Why are you acting weird?” I purse my lips, waiting as he flounders, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes darting to the door like he’s wishing Alistair would return.
“I’m not,” he eventually says, smiling with such force his lips disappear.
“Liam, you would have usually asked about the competition I’ve got coming up by now. Yet you’ve been avoiding me.” I tilt my head. “Why?”
“It’s nothing.” He visibly swallows when I level a glare his way. “Shit—I mean, stuff went down yesterday.”
Thanks for being so cryptic. “What kind of stuff?”
He frowns. “You didn’t hear?” I shake my head, and he grimaces. “Erm… I don’t think it’s my place to say.”
I step forward and it’s almost laughable his reaction. It’s like I’m a lion, and he’s a mouse backed into a corner. “Tell me. Please.”
“Wyatt’s been fired.”
It feels like the ground has been snatched out from under me. Lead bricks drop one by one into my stomach, my lungs struggling to take in air.
“That—” I clear my throat, my voice flat as I say, “That can’t be right.”
“That’s what I thought,” Liam exclaims. “Wyatt is the best pilot I’ve ever seen. He was so thorough and meticulous that it doesn’t make sense.”
“Are you sure?” I croak, and he nods.
“Yes, your father called me and Alistair into his office Thursday afternoon, saying we’ll be flying you indefinitely until he finds a replacement.” He glances back at the cockpit door, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “He didn’t actually say Wyatt was fired, but it’s hard not to read between the lines. Services no longer needed doesn’t exactly leave much room for interpretation.”
The flight deck suddenly feels too small, my clothes too tight, the air too thick. “Thank you for telling me, Liam.”
He nods quickly before turning back to his clipboard, pretending to be engrossed in work, but I’m already out of the door and down the plane steps.
Running like my ass is on fire, I make my way to the pickup zone, pulling up Wyatt’s contact details.
“Hi, you’ve reached the number for Wyatt—”
“Shit,” I snarl, trying again only to get the same voicemail message. I wave at Dave, my driver, as he opens the passenger door for me, hurriedly throwing myself into the back seat and pulling up my dad’s number.
“You’ve reached—”
“Fuck’s sake,” I seethe, then stab the end call button. I glance up, finding Dave staring at me. “Do you know where my dad is?”
“No, miss,” he replies curtly, his gaze moving back to look out the window.
“Is he flying right now?” Why would he be? Both of his pilots are at the airfield. Panic clutches at every organ inside my body, and I shake my head, my legs bouncing as I glance out the window. “Never mind.”
Tapping his number again, I try Wyatt once more, my heart thrashing against my ribs as nausea starts to make an appearance.
“Hi, you’ve reached the number…”