Chapter Twelve
ARCHIE
“Sir.” Hops salutes me.
I salute him in return before we both chuckle and hug, ending in a slap on the back. We haven’t seen each other in probably two years.
“I really appreciate this.” When I reached out, he didn’t even hesitate to say he would be there.
“It’s nothing, I owe—” he starts.
“Honestly.” I interrupt. I know what he’s going to say. He’ll tell me how I saved his life, but that isn’t something I want Tabitha to know. If she hears those words, she’ll have questions, and that isn’t a story I feel like discussing. It was, honestly, a lifetime ago.
He glances at Tabitha and nods.
“My co-pilot Jake is going take care of the car.” Hops passes me a tablet. “Everything has been checked, but I know how thorough you are.”
I smirk. “Keys are in the car.”
I move around the outside of the jet, taking my time as I do a safety walk-around. My eyes look over the engine blades, then scan under the belly. I kick at the tires and chuckle to myself. He’s done very well for himself.
When we’d gotten out of the military and he told me he was going to cruise around the world and have other people pay for it, I thought he was joking. With the help of his family, he turned it into a solid business model. They call it Hops Aviation, “Where you’re just a hop and jet away.”
The Falcon 2000XL is a solid choice for private aviation. I remember Hops telling me most of their jets are around this size. It shouldn’t surprise me that this is what he came in. Even if I was expecting something a little smaller since it’s only me and Tabitha. Maybe a little HondaJet or Cessna.
I circle around to see Hops laughing at something Tabitha said. I know they’re not flirting, my body still tenses. I’d be more jealous if he weren’t married or she was remotely interested. Still—she brings it out of me—this side I didn’t realize I had.
Even my ex could never understand that I wasn’t the jealous type. Clearly, there’s a reason. I shake the thought from my head. I can’t go there. We’re just friends.
“Looks good.” I pass Hops the tablet and grab Tabitha’s suitcase and my bag. “We ready?”
I lead the way up the steps and to the right.
“This is fancy.” Tabitha whispers behind me.
“There’s a bathroom in the back, and we’ll store our bags back there. Did you want to change?” My eyes trail down the dress she’s been wearing. The blue dress clings to her curves and has a high slit on one side.
“Actually, that would be nice.” Her eyes soften.
I nod and lead her farther back and sit our bags down.
“Arch, can you help me?” She turns her back to me and points toward the zipper on her back.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat.
I know Hops is already in the cockpit and waiting, but I still pull the door closed behind us. My eyes move from the back of her neck, where she’s holding her hair up, to the top of the zipper. I reach out and slowly unzip it. My fingers trace her skin as the zipper slowly exposes her back.
“What’s that?” My eyes catch the top of a tattoo on her lower back. “When did you get another tattoo?”
Tabitha spins to face me, her hands holding up her dress. “It’s nothing.” Her eyes are wide.
She’s hiding something.
“I’m going to finish getting changed now.” She swallows. “Thanks.”
I nod. “Yeah.” I shake my head and turn around, cautiously slipping out so she remains hidden.
Why was she hiding a tattoo? I was with her when she got her first one. A small hummingbird behind her left shoulder. It never occurred to me she would get more. She never mentioned wanting them. I couldn’t make out what that one was on her lower back, and now it’s going to bug me.
Tabitha looks nervous when she returns to her seat a few minutes later. I help her get settled and then move to join Hops in the cockpit.
Hops passes me the flight plan. I skim over the papers and then look over the instrument panel. We go over the weather and everything required of us before takeoff before he stares at me and snickers.
“What?” My eyes narrow on him.
“Who is she?”
“A client.”
“To you?”
My jaw ticks.
“Must be a weird coincidence.” He chuckles to himself. “She has the same name of the girl you used to write letters to back in the day.”
I glance back to see Tabitha with her e-reader, oblivious to what’s being said up here. I turn back around and adjust my headset.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I’ve never felt more at ease than I do when I’m up in the air, and within minutes we’re on the runway and then it’s our turn.
Hops must notice my need for control as he sits back and lets me handle the yoke.
His eyes scan over numbers and charts. We move on autopilot, having done this a thousand times in another life.
It’s not until we’re up in the clouds and almost to Lubbock that I let the events of the day filter through.
It’s been a good distraction until now. I was upset with myself when I noticed we were being followed earlier.
Even with all the right steps; it still caught me off guard.
I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until we’re at the clubhouse.
It’s the most obvious choice. Better than her house, my apartment, or any safe house. Fuck, it was THE safe house.
They were family and would have our backs. The guilt disappeared when we prepare to land. Part of me feels bad for asking for a favor, especially since I’m not patched in. They want me to, but I don’t want to be part of it. Yet, here I am, asking for help.
As soon as we’re out of the plane, Tabitha sees who is waiting for us and exhales. I can physically see some of the weight drop from her shoulders. It was a smart choice. Then, she turns to me and glares.
Well, fuck.
She doesn’t speak a word to me as we get into the back of a car and are escorted to the clubhouse.
She puts a smile on her face when we arrive, though.
I can see how it’s forced, but I doubt anyone else will be able to tell the difference.
She’ll have to get over it. Her safety is the most important thing to me.
“Arch!” James immediately greets me. “It’s been a long time.” The years have aged him, both of them.
“Tab.” He pulls her in for a quick hug. “We’re going to get him.”
“Yeah.” She smiles.
We make our way inside. It looks the same as it did when we were kids.
Same cement floors painted black. Same walls covered in posters and pictures of years past. Same fucking tables and chairs scattered about, solid wood.
The bar looks like it’s gotten a fresh coat of paint recently and there are more lights around the place.
My old man is sitting behind the bar pouring whiskey into a glass. Same as always. His eyes barely flicker up to see me. “Son.”
“Dad.” I greet in return.
“Y’all are going to have to share a room.” Dad speaks before taking a sip from his glass. “Same room, I’m sure you can find it.”
“Yeah.” I know it’s a poke. It’s the room that was supposed to be mine after I patched in.
I turn and grab Tabitha’s suitcase before nodding for her to follow. She re-shoulders her backpack and walks behind me as I lead the way down the hall and up the stairs. I assume it will be the same simple queen bed with a dresser and desk. It’s not like I’ve been around to decorate it or add a tv.
I’m not even a member.
It looks like someone has come in and cleaned recently, most likely a prospect. There’s an older TV on top of the dresser across the bed. An extra quilt rests, folded, at the end of the bed.
“I guess we’re sharing a bed. Again.” Tabitha carefully sits her bag on the desk.
I lift the suitcase onto the bed. “Might as well unpack.” We’ll be here for more than a couple of days. Probably two weeks or more, if I have to guess.
We unpack in silence. Moving around the room, placing clothes in the dresser and closet, putting toiletries in the attached bathroom. It makes me a little on edge that she won’t say anything. Surely, she understands this was the best option for her safety.
“Tab,” I start and turn to face her.
She bumps against me and her hands reach out to steady herself. Her hands on my chest shake slightly. I move my hands over hers, pressing them to keep her close.
“I get it. I’m annoyed too, but this is the best option.” My eyes focus on hers.
She nods but then turns to love away from me.
I fucking hate it.
I move one hand under her chin, lift it and turn her face back towards me. I wait for her eyes to land on me before I continue.
“Your parents don’t know where we are and the club is under orders not to tell them, for now. Nobody but the ones here know where you are.” I swallow as my gaze flickers to her lips.
The urge to press mine to them and see if they’re as soft as they look is strong.
“What’s it like?” She licks her lips.
“Huh?”
“Being here, but not being a part of it? Although, it sort of feels like you are. At least, more than you think you are.” She shakes her head.
Oh, the club. “I’m surprised none of them have asked me.” I glance at the closed bedroom door then back to her.
“I mean, I heard you were pretty firm with your decision when you declined the offer to patch in.” Her hands slowly drop from my chest, but she remains close.
I step around her and move to the bed. Thinking back to that day isn’t always easy. I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head down. I wasn’t a straight forward decision. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right one. After everything I’ve been through, I wasn’t ready.
Now, after having time to process—I don’t think I’ll ever be.
“I’m not the same person I was before the military.” The things I’ve experienced and lived through. It’s not easy to talk about.
“Neither are the rest of the men downstairs.” She drops to her knees in front of me. Her hands rest on the top of my thighs. “Did you forget most of them would actually understand what you’ve gone through?”
Of course I didn’t forget. I know they would be the easiest to talk to. But, I don’t want to. It’s not what I want to do. I want to move past it—forget it.
My hands move to her hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls. “I forgot how soft it was.” I wrap one of the soft curls around my finger. Her eyes close, and she leans into my palm.
How can she still be so trusting? Of course, I’m happy she feels this way around me. But after everything. It’s been too long.
Years have gone by, but one thing remains the same. Even if it’s awkward between us, there’s still this instant comfort.
It feels like home. She feels like home.