Chapter 2 #2
“That’s . . .” She paused. “Yeah, that’s actually more terrifying. Because you can’t control that.”
“No.”
“So how do you fly? How do you do anything, if that’s your fear?”
“I prepare.” He shrugged. “I gather information. I run scenarios. I do everything I can to make sure I’m never caught off guard.”
“And when you are anyway?”
The plane dropped. Just a pocket of air, nothing serious, but his stomach lifted and several passengers gasped.
“I live with it,” he said quietly. “And I try to do better next time.”
The turbulence continued—a steady rumble now, punctuated by sharper drops. The seatbelt sign chimed on. A flight attendant moved down the aisle, checking buckles, her smile professional but tight.
“What about you?” Dakota asked. “What’s your flying fear?”
Jayden was quiet for a moment. The plane shuddered around them.
“Going down over the ocean,” she said finally. “Not the crash itself. The after. Being out there in all that water, miles from anything, knowing no one’s coming.” She tried to smile. “Silly, right? Statistically, if a plane goes down over the ocean, you’re not surviving the impact anyway.”
“That’s not silly.” He kept his voice steady. “That’s about control. About being helpless. Waiting for something terrible that you can’t prevent.”
The captain’s voice crackled over the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re experiencing some mechanical issues that, combined with the weather system ahead, are requiring us to divert.
We’ll be landing in Nadi, Fiji, in approximately forty-five minutes.
Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened. ”
The cabin erupted in murmurs.
Jayden’s face had gone pale. “Mechanical issues.”
“Could be minor.” Dakota kept his voice calm, even as his mind started running scenarios. “Pilots divert for all kinds of reasons. Better to be cautious.”
The turbulence buffeted the plane, and then it dropped—harder this time—and the murmurs became gasps. Someone a few rows back started crying quietly.
The flight attendants moved through the cabin again, checking seatbelts, securing overhead bins, their faces professionally neutral in a way that didn’t quite hide the tension in their shoulders.
“We’re going to be fine,” Dakota said. “Fiji’s not far. The pilots train for exactly this kind of situation.”
Jayden nodded, but her knuckles were white on the armrest.
Dakota glanced over. Watched the way she set her jaw, controlled her breathing. She was scared, but she wasn’t panicking.
He wasn’t far behind. “Tell me something,” he said.
She looked at him. “What?”
“Anything. Distract me.”
“You want me to distract you?” A ghost of a smile. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be calm in a crisis.”
“I am calm. But I think better when I’m listening.”
“Okay.” She thought for a moment, then, “I already told you I was an Army brat. Grew up all over the world.”
“Cool. That accounts for your travel bug.”
She grinned, and oh, her eyes just lit up gold when she smiled. “But what I didn’t tell you is that I can speak three languages. Not well, but still. Mostly, I can ask where the bathroom is and where to buy coffee.”
“Seriously?”
“Korean, a little Arabic, and I’m almost fluent in German.”
“Okay, I’m impressed.”
She grinned. “I’m very useful.”
“Indeed. Do you have siblings?”
“A sister. She died. You?”
So matter-of-fact. “Two sisters. One older, one younger.”
The plane shuddered. Dropped. She gripped the armrest harder. “Back in South Dakota?”
“No. Yes. One in Minneapolis, the other in Sioux Falls.”
“Are your parents back on the ranch?”
“Mom is. She grew up there. Dad died.”
Her mouth tightened. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, I was twelve.” He hadn’t meant to admit that. “My grandfather helped me through it. But yeah, it was tough.”
The turbulence intensified. The plane was fighting through something—weather, mechanical issues, he couldn’t tell. But the drops came more frequently, harder, and around them, fear crept across passengers’ faces.
“My grandfather had a fishing cabin on the border of Minnesota,” Dakota said. “On a lake so still you could see every tree reflected in it.”
“What was it like?” Jayden’s voice was tight, but she was listening. Focusing on his words instead of the turbulence.
“Quiet.” He kept his tone steady, conversational. “We’d go out at sunrise. The mist would rise off the water, and everything would be still. Just us and the fish and the sound of the line cutting through the air.”
The plane shuddered. She flinched but didn’t look away from him.
“He taught me to tie flies,” Dakota continued. “Said fly-fishing was about patience. About waiting for the right moment and trusting your instincts.”
“Did you catch anything?”
“Sometimes. But that wasn’t really the point.”
She nodded. “What was the point?”
“Being there. Being present with someone who . . .” He paused. “Someone who made you feel like you mattered.”
The plane dropped again. Not as hard.
“I had a place like that,” she said. “In Germany. This little café near our house. They made the best apple strudel I’ve ever had.” A small smile. “I’d go there after school and practice my German with the owner. Frau Keller. She was patient with me, even when I butchered the pronunciation.”
“Sounds nice.”
“It was. I was hoping we might stay.” Her knuckles went white on the armrest. “I had friends. Real friends. We’d meet at the café every Friday. And I was getting good at the language. Really good. I could think in German, dream in it.”
“What happened?”
“My dad got reassigned Stateside. Three months before my fifteenth birthday.” She stared straight ahead. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly. Just . . . left.”
The plane bucked. Hard.
Dakota’s hand shot out and caught hers.
Not gentle. Not a comfort gesture. Pure instinct—anchoring himself, anchoring her, the contact sudden and tight.
The plane dropped.
Really dropped.
His stomach lifted into his throat. The guy by the window had woken up, now opened the shade and stared out into the darkness.
Around them, passengers screamed. Overhead bins rattled.
The flight attendants had retreated to their jump seats, strapped in, faces tight.
A phone clattered to the floor somewhere behind them.
And then they were level again.
His hand stayed locked around hers. Her fingers gripped back, hard enough to hurt.
Neither of them let go. Not grabbing. Just resting there. A point of contact in the chaos.
The captain’s voice crackled again. “Flight crew, prepare for landing.”
A pause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to ask you to assume the brace position on my command. When we land, please leave all personal belongings and exit the aircraft as quickly as possible. Flight attendants will direct you to the appropriate exits. Please listen carefully to their instructions.”
The cabin went silent.
Then someone screamed.
It broke the spell. Suddenly everyone was talking, crying, praying. The flight attendants moved down the aisle with grim faces, demonstrating the brace position, their voices calm and clear over the chaos.
“Head down. Arms over your head. Stay in that position until we come to a complete stop.”
Jayden’s hand tightened on his. “Dakota.”
He turned to look at her. Her face drained of color, her eyes went wide, but she kept her breathing steady. Fear showed in every line of her body—anyone would be terrified—but she held herself together.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “I’m glad I sat next to you.”
Oh. And his heart gave a small, rebellious thump.
“We’re going to be okay,” he said. “The pilots know what they’re doing. Fiji has a good runway. We’re going to land, and we’re going to walk off this plane, and I’m going to buy you the worst airport coffee you’ve ever had.”
She laughed—a small, shaky sound. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
The captain’s voice came over the intercom one more time. “Brace. Brace. Brace.”
They bent forward, arms over their heads, the position awkward and terrifying and real.
But their hands stayed locked together.
Hers in his. His in hers.
Holding on as the plane fell to the earth.
They’d survived, the plane touching down hard, bouncing, but finally screeching to a halt.
No fires, no debris field, everyone still strapped into their seats, alive.
But Jayden’s free hand shook. Dakota still held the other one, his grip steady and warm.
And maybe that’s why she was able to lie when Dakota asked, “You okay?”
Jayden pressed her shaking hand flat against her thigh, willing it to stop. “Yeah. You?”
“Still here.”
Tropical rain hammered the airplane’s windows as the plane taxied in at Nadi International, and somewhere behind her, a child cried, and none of that mattered because she’d made it.
But her hand kept shaking. Sheesh, she’d turned into a pansy.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated.” A flight attendant’s voice rang out over the cabin noise. “We’ll be evacuating row by row. Please leave all carry-on items and proceed directly to the exits.”
Pull it together, Lynx.
“Can you stand?” Dakota asked quietly.
“Of course I can stand.” She glanced at him. “Can you?”
His mouth quirked. “Eventually.”
The aisle started to clear. Passengers stumbled forward, some crying, some silent. Vic pushed past them, face white.
“Row sixteen, please exit now,” the flight attendant called. “Leave your belongings. Move quickly but carefully.”
Dakota stood, still holding her hand, and pulled her up with him.
She didn’t fall apart. Not during the landing, when the plane had shuddered and groaned and every person in the cabin had been absolutely certain they were going to die. Not during the evacuation, when flight attendants shouted instructions and passengers stumbled over each other in the aisles.
“Watch your step,” a flight attendant said as they reached the exit. Her smile was professional, but her eyes were exhausted. “Welcome to Fiji.”
“Thanks for getting us down,” Dakota said.
“Thank the pilots.” She nodded toward the cockpit. “They’re the heroes today.”