Chapter 14 #2
“Let’s just fly today.” It was too soon to talk about anything else. “Think you can do that?”
“Yeah.” She dropped her gaze to her lap. And slightly, just slightly, she inched away from the door.
I slowed and took the turnout for the airfield. The truck bounced along the patchy asphalt road. The hangars, with their white tin walls and silver metal roofs, reflected the bright morning sun. Ten buildings lined the runway. Mine was the newest.
Mom and Dad had already given us kids a portion of our inheritance. They always said it was stupid to wait until they were dead to share. They wanted to be around to witness us use that money and chase our dreams.
Everyone else had turned that money into a business or advanced education. After I’d graduated college, I’d taken my money and bought an airplane and built a hangar.
Guilt and that hangar, my plane, went hand in hand these days. Had I pissed away my parents’ money? Should I have invested it in something else?
Flying was an expensive hobby, especially when the plane’s wheels didn’t leave the ground.
At least it had appreciated in value.
I parked outside the hangar and climbed out of the truck, waiting for Vera to join me. Then I led her to the door, keyed in the lock’s combination to the touchpad and stepped inside. The motion lights flickered on, glinting off the royal blue and silver Cirrus SR22 turbo.
“Vera, meet Four Zero Six Delta Whiskey.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
It wasn’t a big plane. Depending on weight limits, I could fit four passengers, and the inside wasn’t much bigger than that of a compact car. But this plane had taken me across thousands and thousands of miles.
It was the plane I’d flown that night I’d received the call about Alaina. About Madison. And when I’d taken my daughter from that hospital in Alaska, this was the plane that had brought us home.
Buckled in her car seat and strapped in the seat beside mine, Allie had slept through each leg of that trip. She’d only woken up when I’d stopped to refuel, feed her a bottle and change her diaper.
Only once had her ears bothered her enough to make a fuss, but I’d kept as low an altitude as possible to save her any pain. In hindsight, she’d been an excellent traveler. Better than most adults.
But that flight had been the most harrowing, exhausting flight of my life. It had taken me months to venture out to the airfield after that trip. And not once had I wanted to take Allie flying again. I hadn’t even brought her to the hangar.
“This is nice,” Vera said.
“Feel free to grab a water from the fridge.” I pointed to the small kitchenette.
Beside it was a lounge area with two leather couches and a coffee table. My office sat in the far corner. Beside it, a bathroom. Along with shelves for storage, there was a utility room and a cleaning supply closet.
It was the nicest hangar around, and for the past two years, it had mostly been neglected. When I’d come yesterday to fly, I’d spent three hours cleaning the months of accumulated dust. Guilt had kept me company the whole damn time.
“I’m going to do a quick preflight inspection,” I told Vera, nodding to the couches. “Give me fifteen, and we’ll get ready to go.”
“Okay.” She pushed those sunglasses into her hair and tore her gaze from the plane to meet mine. Pink infused her cheeks, the same rosy shade as her mouth.
Vera always had pink cheeks. I’d assumed it was just a natural blush. But maybe, all this time, it had been for me.
Damn.
It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.
My blood stirred and rushed straight to my groin. Huh. That was new. And not entirely unwelcome.
I was in trouble, wasn’t I? A fucking heap.
Focus, Mateo. We were flying today. There was no time to think about Vera’s pink lips or cheeks or the way her jeans molded to her toned legs.
She walked to a couch, taking a seat on the plush leather. And I turned for my plane, waiting until I was on the opposite side before adjusting my dick.
I stepped up onto the wing and popped the door open.
From my seat, I turned on the batteries, letting the screens power up, then went through my initial preflight checklist, inspecting everything from the wings to the elevator to the fuel and oil to the propeller.
When I deemed everything ready to go, I walked to the button for the folding overhead door, letting it open so the air and sunshine could flood inside.
Vera stood from the couch, tucking and untucking a lock of hair behind an ear, as I used the tug to roll the plane onto the taxiway outside. With it in position, I waved her over.
“Ready?”
She nodded, joining me on her side of the plane.
“Climb up.” I pointed to the footstep, then patted the wing, reaching past her to pull the door’s handle.
“Okay.” Her voice was shaking as she moved past me.
The smell of her hair wafted to my nose. It was sweet but subtle, like flowers and crisp apples. I leaned in closer, drawing it in.
I’d forgotten just how much I liked her perfume. While we’d danced at Vance and Lyla’s wedding, I’d taken these deep inhales of that scent, wondering how I’d spent so much time with Vera but hadn’t noticed just how good she smelled.
What if Vance hadn’t cut in that night? What if I had had more time to get lost in the flecks of gold and cinnamon in her chocolate eyes?
What if I had snuck her away for a kiss?
Vance would have kicked my ass. Lyla would have probably been next in line.
Mom might have been understanding this weekend, but back then, she would have given me the tongue lashing of the decade.
Back then, Vera hadn’t lived in the loft for long. She’d only spent months on the ranch and less than a year in Quincy. She’d been quieter then. She’d still been finding her footing.
If I had kissed Vera, chances were, my family would have gone nuclear.
Maybe the reason I hadn’t noticed Vera’s crush was because I couldn’t have noticed Vera’s crush. Not back then.
“What?” she asked, that blush deepening.
“Nothing. Whenever you’re ready.”
She hoisted herself up on the wing, carefully stepping into the plane. Once she was in her seat, pulling on the harness, I rounded the tail and got in on my own side to buckle up.
Vera’s knuckles were nearly white as she clutched her hands in her lap.
“Don’t be nervous.”
“Says the pilot,” she muttered. “Were you nervous on your first flight?”
“Yes.”
She slid the sunglasses onto her face. “Then I get to be nervous too.”
“Fair point.” I chuckled, then reached for her door to confirm the latch was down tight. My arm brushed against hers and tingles spread like dancing flames across my skin.
Her breath hitched.
“Just checking,” I murmured, my gaze dropping to her mouth.
“Oh,” she breathed, her lips a perfect O.
I’d never kissed anyone in this plane. Not even Madison.
Yeah, I was in trouble. So much trouble.
I tore my gaze away and plugged in Vera’s headset, handing it to her so she could situate it over her ears and adjust the mic to her mouth. I did the same with my own headset, then I gave her a quick nod.
When she nodded back, I leaned my head outside, shouting, “Clear,” then latched my door shut. Holding the key in the ignition, I started the engine. Its hum and vibration filled the cabin as the propeller kicked up speed.
Using the brakes to steer, I taxied to the runway, doing a quick runup of the engine as I monitored the gauges, stealing glances at Vera as I punched buttons and turned knobs.
Her eyes were squeezed shut behind her sunglasses.
“We don’t have to do this.”
This was the most I’d looked forward to a flight in well . . . years. I hadn’t been this excited to fly since before my trip home from Alaska with Alaina. My heart was set on doing this today, but if Vera wanted to turn back, I’d abort this right now.
She’d love it. If I could just get us off the ground, she’d love it. I’d gamble every penny to my name that she’d love to fly.
“I want to go,” she said. “I’m just . . . my stomach is in a knot. And I really don’t want to puke in your plane.”
I grinned. “I’d rather you not puke either. But if you get sick, there’s a bag in the back.”
“Okay.”
“This plane has a parachute.” I pointed to the red handle above our heads. “See that?”
Vera cracked her eyes and glanced up. “Yeah.”
“If something happens to me, use both hands and pull that knob. It will shoot a rocket from a compartment in the back and deploy an airframe parachute. Float us right back to the ground.”
“Are you making that up?”
“Nope. In college, when I told Mom I wanted to become a pilot, she went into Google mode. Told me to do her a favor and fly in a Cirrus so she could sleep at night.”
Vera’s frame relaxed. “I’m still nervous.”
“Be nervous. Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open them.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
I ran through the rest of the briefing, Vera nodding along as I detailed the takeoff plan. And when we were ready, I rolled us to the runway and made the initial radio call.
“Here we go.” I pushed the throttle to full power. One. Two. Three. We sped down the runway, and once we were fast enough to rotate, I lifted us off with a tilt of the yoke.
We soared, rising higher and higher. A grin stretched across my mouth. It never got old. That first lift, when the plane just . . . flew. When it did what it was meant to do.
What I was meant to do.
After calling our departure, I climbed to a cruise altitude and leveled off. When the mountains and meadows sprawled beneath us, I let the autopilot fly us on a straight course so I could focus on Vera.
Her eyes were finally open, her mouth agape in wonder.
“Well?” I asked.
“Worth it.”
Thank fuck. “Where should we go? Pick a spot.”
Vera glanced around, peering out her window, then pointed to a snow-capped peak in the distance.
“Sable Peak?” I asked.
“That’s your favorite, right?”
“It is.” I turned to the new heading, aiming us toward the peak.
“Why is it your favorite?”
“The view. It’s not easy to hike up there, as you know. But you can’t beat that view from the top.” I loved to be in the air, but that view was arguably better than even this.
“There’s a lake tucked away about half a mile past the actual trail,” I continued.
“Discovered it in college. I came home one weekend, went buzzing around and spotted it. The next day, I went hiking to find it. It’s been my favorite spot ever since.
It’s remote. I like to think I’m the only person in the world who’s ever touched its water. ”
Vera hummed, her eyes focused outside.
I flew us around the peak a couple times, giving us enough distance that we didn’t need to climb higher. After a few circles, I followed the curve of the mountain ridgeline.
“Want to try?” I asked, disconnecting the autopilot.
“Try what?”
“Flying.”
“Um . . . yes?”
“Atta girl.” I’d put Vera in the left seat today. As an instructor, I could fly from either seat, but the left side was where students started.
Vera gulped and gripped the yoke. “Now what?”
I held up both hands. “You’ve got the flight controls. Don’t crash us into the mountains.”
“That’s not funny, Mateo.” Her lips flattened into a thin line.
“Sort of funny.” I grinned. “I’ll back you up. Just go for it.”
“Do I just . . .” She tipped the yoke, the wing on her side lifting as mine dipped. And a startled, happy laugh escaped her pretty mouth. “Oh my God, I’m flying an airplane.”
“You’re flying an airplane, Peach.”
Peach? Where the hell had that come from? It had just . . . slipped out. Like I should have been calling her Peach for years. Like the way I’d started calling Alaina Sprout. One day she didn’t have a nickname. The next, she did. And Peach was Vera’s.
She was too caught up in the flying to notice. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration. Her gaze was locked ahead.
The light that streamed through the windows loved her face. It caressed her cheeks and kissed her lips. It teased the strands of pure gold in that copper hair.
Clear and a million.
Today, I was seeing clear and a million.
“Will you teach me to fly?” she asked.
Spend hours and hours with her, alone and above the world? “Absolutely.”