Chapter 63
sixty-three
Chopper blades whomp overhead as I get my helicopter ready.
I’ve already strapped Renya into the passenger seat, helped her with her headset, and finished my pre-flight check.
The sky bleeds orange and pink along the horizon, and the sun is just starting to dip behind the Cascades.
Stomach full from our amazing dinner date at Fireside Pub, I’m excited to get the ball rolling on my plans for the rest of the night.
“You good?” I ask, adjusting my mic.
Reyna’s eyes are wide, darting between me and the windshield. Even though she’s got a white-knuckle grip on her seatbelt, there’s a smile playing at the corners of her mouth telling me she’s more excited than she is scared.
Her voice hums in my ears through my headset. “Never been in a helicopter before,” she admits.
“Well, you’re definitely in for a treat.” I flash her a grin and reach across the dash to flip a few switches. The engine whines higher, and the rotors pick up speed.
“Bet you say that to all the girls you’ve done this with.”
Heat bleeds into my tone as I give her a serious look. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever done this with.”
The startled look on her face makes me grin as I pull back on the collective and ease the cyclic forward, lifting off the tarmac.
As the ground drops away in a stomach-lurching way that never gets old, Reyna lets out this little gasp that goes straight to my dick. I bank us left, circling the airfield once before pointing the nose east toward the mountains.
The airfield is small. Just a single asphalt runway with a couple of hangars.
Its control tower is usually manned by Kyle, a retired Air Force guy who spends most of his shifts watching NASCAR reruns.
I keep my 4 passenger Bell 206 here because it’s cheaper than the municipal airport and a hell of a lot closer to Lakeside.
“You own this?” Reyna asks, fingers digging into her thighs as we climb.
Fuck. I can’t wait to do the same.
“Yep. Bought it used about three years ago. Had to rebuild the engine, replace the tail rotor assembly, and rewire half the avionics. But she’s mine.” I pat the instrument panel. “Named her Bea.”
“Bea?”
“After my grandma. She’s the only woman who ever scared the shit out of me.”
Reyna’s laugh is warm and bright. “I love that.”
When we clear the tree line, the whole valley opens up below us.
From up here, Lakeside looks like a tiny toy town.
Main Street is a neat little ribbon cutting through the grid, the lake a dark blue mirror reflecting the sun as it slowly makes its descent.
I can see the fire station, the square roof of Summit Studio, and The Brew’s parking lot already filling up with the Saturday night crowd.
“God, it’s beautiful,” she gasps.
I glance over at her. The sunset is painting her face in gold and rose, catching in her hair that’s styled loose around her shoulders. She’s got her bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes shining with delight. And it’s in that moment, I know I’d fly this woman to the moon if she asked.
Banking north, I follow the ridge line toward a spot I’d scouted a few weeks back.
The meadow sits on a flat stretch of land about two thousand feet up, tucked between two rolling hills.
From the air, it looks like someone took a paintbrush to the earth with swaths of crimson poppies and golden balsam root bleeding together in a carpet of color.
Twenty minutes later, I bring Bea down in a gentle descent, the wildflowers whipping and flattening under the wind from the rotors.
When the landing struts kiss the grass, I cut the engine. The rotors slow to a lazy spin, then stop, filling the cabin with stunned silence.
Reyna’s eyes widen into huge pools of arctic blue. “Wow.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I grin, unstrapping my harness.
I reach behind my seat and grab the basket I packed before our date. A chilled bottle of champagne, two crystal flutes and a blanket. I’d stashed it in the back before we left the airfield, tucked behind the rear seats where she couldn’t see it.
“Brex.” Her voice is soft, almost reverent. “You planned all this?”
“Maybe.” I hop out and circle around to her side, offering my hand. She takes it, and I help her down, threading her fingers with mine.
The sun is hovering right at the ridge line now, throwing long shadows across the meadow, with the scent of wildflowers floating on a cool, gentle breeze.
Spreading the blanket out on a flat patch of grass, we both take a seat. Popping the cork from the bottle, I pour us each a glass and hand her one.
“To your first helicopter ride.”
“To Bea,” she counters, clinking her glass against mine.
The champagne is crisp and cold, and Reyna closes her eyes as she swallows, a small sigh escaping her lips. She takes another sip, then another, and I watch the tension drain from her shoulders as the bubbles do their work.
I wait until she’s halfway through her glass before I ask what I’ve been hesitating to ask.
“How are you feeling? After everything. Do you truly understand your sister’s death wasn’t your fault?”
For a second, she doesn’t answer. Just stares into her glass.
I want to reach over and smooth away whatever’s left of that hurt.
I’d do anything to squash it—go back in time.
Throttle her asshole father for being a no-good drunk.
But I know that kind of devastation doesn’t just disappear.
It takes root and grows. And sometimes all you can do is learn to grow along with it.
“Actually, I’m a lot better than I was before I moved to Lakeside. Almost like night and day.” The firmness of her voice says she’s telling the truth. “I don’t think I even realized how bad it was until it started getting better.”
She swirls the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles race to the surface. “I used to wake up every morning with this... weight on my chest? And I would just... live with it. All day. Every day. And now? Most days it’s not even there.”
My chest tightens. I want to tell her how proud I am. How much it means to me that she’s allowing herself to heal. But before I can get the words out, she turns to face me fully.
“I went to see Madame Solis.”
Draining my glass, I set it aside. “The psychic?”
She nods, hair gently blowing across her face. “I know how it sounds. Trust me, I went in thinking it was going to be a load of bullshit.”
Reaching over, I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze.
Reyna’s voice drops. “She channeled Becca.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to say. I don’t really believe in psychics. I prefer things I can see, touch, and control. But the look on Reyna’s face tells me whatever happened in that woman’s house was real to her.
“What did she say?”
Her eyes shimmer in the fading light. “She told me it was okay to let her go. That she’s at peace, and I need to find mine too.” Her voice cracks, and she presses her lips together, blinking hard. “Then I had that dream…”
A vision of her sobbing in the rain, tucked between me and Logan, pops into my head, twisting my heart inside my chest.
“But, you and Logan? Being there for me in my moment of grief?” She squeezes my hand. “That’s what really solidified everything for me.”
Stunned at her words, all I can do is stare at her profile and swallow the lump in my throat.
Then, gaze on the horizon, she takes in a deep breath. “I’d prefer not to talk anymore, if that’s okay.”
Her words come out quiet, but with an edge that makes my pulse kick up a notch.
“Then come here, Pretty,” I murmur.
I tug her hand and she crawls into my lap. The instant shift in energy makes all the blood in my head rush straight to my dick.
One second she’s talking about grief and coming to terms with it, and the next she’s climbing into my lap like she can’t get close enough, legs bracketing my thighs.
The sun is almost gone now, just a sliver of molten gold along the ridge, turning her hair into a halo surrounding her beautiful face. I don’t deserve this woman. I know I don’t. But I’m selfish. Selfish enough to make her mine.
Gripping the hem of her shirt, I pull it over her head and toss it aside. My hands go straight for her tits, palming them through the thin lace of her bra, and she arches into my touch with a soft, broken sound that makes my cock throb in my jeans.
Yanking the cups down exposes her pert, rosy nipples, I don’t waste another second before taking one into my mouth.