2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Carter
A s I place a new word on the board, the smell of disinfectant and a subtle undertone of a sweet, fruity scent fill my nostrils.
“PEACH. Twelve points,” I say, adding the numbers to the scorecard. Three sets of eyes are pinning me from all angles around the table.
“Iris, your grandson beats us every week,” Betty murmurs, sitting on my left.
Sitting on my right, Warren shoots her a side-eye. “I told you to pick a new game this week.”
My grandmother has been in memory care for the last few years. She’s been battling the progressive symptoms of dementia. I come weekly to play board games with her and some of the other patients. But in the last few months, her doctors have seen a decline in her health, so I’ve made it my priority to visit with her more often.
Usually, when I come for games, some of the friends she’s made here come as well. Most of the time, it’s Warren, Nancy, and Betty who are able to play with us each week.
They tell me stories from their lives—some I’ve heard many times, and others are new to me. Warren is a veteran of World War II, and given my career in the Navy, it’s no surprise we bonded right away. We swap stories of what it was like in the service and how it shaped the men we are.
I share with them my experiences as a commercial pilot and how my life is now different from the life I had before—but alike in many ways, too.
“It’s not my fault my grandson is smart, talented—and a hero.” She brags like I’m not even in the room.
I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “I can hear everything you guys are saying.”
“Sometimes I forget that other people still have working ears,” she jokes.
Warren moves closer, angling his good ear toward us. “Huh?”
Betty cups her hands together. “Nothing, Warren,” she says, amplifying her voice.
“Oh, okay.” He nods, looking away.
“My ears work fine.” Betty winks in my direction. “Other parts of my body, not so much.”
“Carter, tell us more stories from your fighter pilot days.” Nancy smiles at me from across the table.
I sigh. “You’re trying to deflect from the fact that I’m about to beat all of you once again at Scrabble.”
“Next week, we play Gin Rummy,” my grandma says. “It’s still your turn, Warren.”
Warren rubs the white stubble on his chin. “Oh, hell. The only thing I got is MAGIC.”
I add up his score as he places his tiles on the board. “That’s ten points. Not bad, my friend.”
“I’ll take it!” he exclaims .
“So, how are you adjusting to life after the Navy?” Betty turns to me as the rest of the table stares down at their tiles, creating potential words to play on the next round.
Twenty years in the service was enough. I craved a different life. I never started a family and had kids like other guys I knew. I was set on traveling the world, excelling in my career, and rising to the top. The jobs that I’ve done would not have been suited for a family. The risk, multiple combat tours, training, and demand were difficult on me.
As the years flew by, I realized I hadn’t had many serious girlfriends—none of whom I’d consider spending my life with. But suddenly, I woke up thirty-eight years old and ready to put down roots. The following year, I retired. I wanted to prepare for a calmer life that had room for someone else. My goal was to move into a more stable role in leadership as a flight instructor and to help train and mentor the next generation of fighter pilots.
“It’s going alright, Betty. Thanks for asking. It’s always good to be in the air,” I answer. I’ve only been a commercial pilot for a year—and have been officially retired that same amount of time.
My grandmother likes to credit herself for my sudden interest in stability. I tease her with denials, but the truth is, she is a large part of the reason. I’ve always had a special bond with her.
My grandparents took custody of me when I was six and raised me until I joined the Navy. Both of my parents battled with drugs and alcohol most of my life. Since they were my mother’s parents, I would still see her once in a while. She came in and out of my childhood, showing up on a random given day, then disappearing again not too long after .
Most of the time, they were quick visits between her addictions and stents in prison. My father is currently still serving a twenty-five-year sentence in Colorado for drug-related charges as well. They’re both in their fifties and have never lived outside that world. I have no desire to see them or have them back in my life.
I’ve heard they’re still married. Despite being separated by metal bars and more than six states, they’re still very much in . If they are each other’s soulmates, at least they accept one another.
“When do you fly out again?” My grandmother slides her letters across the wooden tile holder.
“Tomorrow.”
Warren glances at me from over the top of his reading glasses. “And what type of exotic destination are you headed to now?”
The destinations and the flying I do now, compared to what I used to do. With regards to locations themselves, they are vastly different, but I let them assume that I’m headed for an adventure anyway.
I move my pieces around, darting my eyes between the board and my letters to create the word FLAPJACK .
“I believe my first stop is Albuquerque. But I’ll have to look at my schedule on my phone in a minute because right now, I’m about to beat your asses,” I say with a broad smile on my face.
“Oh, hell. Good game, Carter, but next week, I get to pick what we play,” Warren grumbles.
“Of course, my friend.” Just as I stand, the rest of the table does the same. “No, don’t get up.” I make my way around the table to Betty and to give Warren a firm handshake.
“See you next week,” he says, smiling .
I bend down to kiss my grandmother on the cheek. “I love you, Carter. Thank you for always coming to see me.”
“Grandma, you don’t have to thank me. I always will,” I reassure her. Then make my way toward the door, but then I turn quickly on my heels. “Tell Dr. Tully that I’ll talk to him during our weekly call.”
“I’m so lucky to have you.” Her eyes gloss over.
“I’m the lucky one.”
With a hot coffee in hand, I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Phoenix. My condo is on the sixth floor and has unobstructed views of the valley. Facing toward the path, I watch the aircraft flying in and out of the state’s international airport. It’s an up-and-coming area with trendy bars, restaurants, and shops.
I fly out this morning for the next two days. Grazing around the condo one more time, I confirm that I have remembered everything before my trip. I finish my coffee before rinsing it out in the sink, then head over to close the automatic curtains of the corner windows. I swipe my hat off the leather couch and wheel my luggage out the door.
“Good morning, Carter.”
I hear a female voice behind me as I’m locking the door. My neighbors Abby and Ashley stand beside their door with their small dog, Snickers, as he wags his tail at their feet .
“How are you both?” I ask.
“Good. Heading out of town for our anniversary trip in a few days,” Ashley tells me while lovingly staring at Abby.
“That sounds like fun,” I reply. “Where are you going?”
Abby adjusts her backpack. “We rented a cabin up north. Hoping to enjoy some cooler weather.”
“We have some friends meeting us up there tomorrow,” Ashley chimes in.
“Headed out too?” Abby asks, glancing at my uniform.
I nod. “I am. Only for two days this time.”
“Carter, you should let us set you up with one of our friends sometime,” Abby says, slipping the key into the door to lock it behind them.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
I’ve never been good at the emotional side of relationships. I feel things deeply, including love—and anger. Not all women can accept that intensity, so I’ve learned to keep them at a distance—along with my emotions.
God help the woman I genuinely fall in love with. That’s why I date casually. Maintaining long-distance relationships is easier because they all eventually run their course, letting me off the hook.
“Let us work on that, and we’ll get back to you. Have a safe flight,” Ashley calls out. They’re both still fumbling with all their things in their hands when I head toward the door to the building. I wave at them from behind.
A short time later, I’m walking through the terminal. The first thing I do before a flight is grab another cup of coffee. I make a beeline for the crew lounge to pick up my favorite order. The airport buzzes with commuters flying out to begin their work week.
“Frank,” I greet one of the gentlemen I’ve gotten to know during his commuting flights. He lives in Scottsdale but works in the tech industry in San Francisco. He spends the week out there and weekends here with his wife and daughter. Since most of the flights I work on are domestic, I see many of the same commuters.
“Hello, Captain Hernandez. Going to San Francisco?” Frank extends his arm for me to shake his hand.
“Not this morning,” I reply. He steps aside to let me order.
Frank reaches for his paper cup on the other side of the counter. “Well, it’s nice to see you. Have a safe flight,” he says.
“You too, Frank. See you around.”
While waiting for my order, my eyes search the room. I might see her. And as luck would have it, my eyes find who I’m always looking for these days. Every bone in my body locks into place, and I’m immediately mesmerized as I watch a tall, honey-blonde flight attendant walk up to the counter.
Lina.
A friend of mine from the service retired a few years before me and became a commercial pilot. Although he works for a different airline, his daughter is a flight attendant for mine.
“Carter.”
Lina and I met a little less than a year ago, and I’m not ashamed to say it was an instant attraction. By this point in my life, I’ve been with women all over the world. Each one bringing out different emotions and levels of intimacy from me. Some were for fun, others companionship, but none lingered through my bones or caused an electrical surge to pulse through my limbs all at once.
Never.
Nothing compared to the sheer high I got the moment Lina’s baby blue eyes met mine.
An internal bomb ticked louder with every step in the brief three seconds it took her to approach me and my friend Brian. As she closed the distance between us, my breath became labored, and my thoughts blurred.
It was all over. I was caught off guard at first and tried to push the unfamiliar feelings aside, chalking them up to me being a horny man getting turned on by a sexy younger woman. But my lust was quickly halted.
The following words uttered by Brian created a dense fog that would continue to hang over me for the foreseeable future. It was like the lights instantly went out.
“Jag, this is my daughter Lina.”
Fuck .
But my body had already decided she was different before my heart or mind—and there would be no going back. The more I got to know Lina through simple conversations and casual encounters, the more suffocatingly thick tension continued to surround us. And I grew to become terribly infatuated with her.
It’s been ten months and sixteen days since I first laid eyes on her. Since then, we’ve been on the same flight crew several times. Each time my thoughts flood with inappropriate things, I feel a sting of guilt. There’s only a thirteen-year difference between us, but somehow, the way my body reacts to being around her still feels forbidden .
My heart beats faster the longer I stare at my best friend’s daughter, who doesn’t notice me because she’s absently texting on her phone. I let my gaze drink in the length of her, from her black high heels to her navy pencil skirt and up to her bright red lipstick.
Fuck.
“Carter!”
I hear my name as a distant sound until a pair of blue eyes lock with mine. A bolt of electricity shoots up my spine, forcing me back into reality.
I blink a few times, then bend to grab my cup. “Thank you.”
“Lina!” the barista shouts into my face. The clicking of her heels as she heads toward me drowns out the steam from the latte machine and the low chatter of passengers waiting for their flights.
“Carter.” The sweet way she says my name is alluring, making me never want to hear anyone else say it again.
I turn, holding my cup in one hand and hers in the other.
Her eyes bounce from mine to the hot beverage. Still clutching it in my hand, I stand in front of her for a beat before extending my arm.
Lina pulls her bottom lip between her teeth while keeping her eyes trained on me. Reaching out to take her cup, her fingertips accidentally brush against mine. I don’t release it right away. Instead, I let them linger.
“Lina,” I say, caressing the softness of her skin with my thumb.
Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t pull back. “Captain Hernandez. ”
Lina’s smile alone threatens to bring me to my knees. Hell, I’m surprised it hasn’t brought this entire airport to its knees. I watch airline employees and passengers gawk at her when she walks by. A rumbling fire of jealousy kicks up every time I witness it.
“How are you?” I ask, my voice comes out deeper than I intended.
“Thank you,” she drawls, finally taking the cup from my grasp. I let my hand fall and watch as she brings the rim to her red lips.
“Of course.” I sip my coffee, but our gaze remains connected over the tops of our cups.
“Going to Albuquerque?” she says it more like a statement than a question.
“I am.”
“Hey, Carter,” Avery greets as she walks up, taking the space at Lina’s side.
I smile. “Nice to see you, Avery.”
My eyes capture Lina’s once again. “I guess I’ll see you around then, Lina.”
The tops of her cheeks flush, and she quickly darts her tongue out to lick her lips. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”
I give them both one quick nod, flash Lina a half smile, and then head toward my gate. The entire way down, I feel like I’m walking on air.