Chapter 13 Jace
JACE
Exactly a week had passed since the football game that had thrown my psyche into a tailspin. Every time someone brought up my G-LOC, I was thrown back in time, replaying the incident on a loop in my head.
Tate was walking and breathing. Hell, that should’ve been enough to quiet the noise, but it wasn’t.
And as I walked into the prep room at Ridgeway’s aeromedical building, which was one of two operational high-G training centrifuges in the country, my heart was racing like I’d taken a bottle of speed.
One part of me was freaking out that I wouldn’t pass. The other part of me was concerned that if I did, I would be off to Germany, which meant I wouldn’t see Monroe for a long time or ever. Would she still want a relationship if I was halfway around the world? I couldn’t ask her to wait for me.
I rubbed the pain that was spreading through my chest as I sat on a bench in front of a bank of lockers. Then I pulled out my phone and tapped on her name in my contacts.
She and I had talked just about every night right before she went to bed.
We’d kept the topics about her past, my past, what she’d gone through with her divorce, and a bunch of generic things.
Then I’d broken down and told her about my G-LOC and about Tate, my medical review, and that I was still grounded pending the most important test of all.
I glanced at my watch then tapped the phone icon. I had to hear her voice, but since it was eight a.m., she was probably starting her first class.
I called anyway. If she didn’t pick up, then I would at least hear her voice when her voicemail kicked in.
The line rang twice before she answered. “Jace, is everything okay?” I hated to hear the worry in her tone, which was a major reason I hadn’t wanted her to know about my incident.
“Hey, Sunshine. Have you started class yet?”
I could hear voices in the background behind her. “No, the bell doesn’t ring for another ten minutes. I’m heading to a quiet spot. Aren’t you doing your centrifuge test today?”
“Thirty minutes. But I needed to hear your voice.”
“You’re nervous,” she said.
“Freaking out.” I would’ve never admitted that to anyone else, but I was sure she could hear the anxiety in my voice, and I was truthful when I agreed to no secrets.
“Look, you’re a badass pilot. You got through all that training, and you’ve been flying for years. This test is no different. It’s like riding a bike. You will not G-LOC, Jace. Use that as your mantra.”
I rubbed the tightness in my chest. “Thank you. I should go. I’ll see you tonight?”
“Do you want to hang at my house? We can order in. Maybe watch a movie. Ethan won’t be home.”
I wasn’t sure how I would feel by the end of the day, but it didn’t matter, as long as I was with Monroe. “That sounds great.”
“Awesome. Does six work for you?” she asked.
“I’ll be there. And thanks for picking up the phone.”
“I got you, Jace.”
Those three words sent goose bumps along my arms. I swore they rivaled I love you. Hell, maybe even better. To know she was there for me was more than I could ask for, and I thought I had just fallen in love with her.
After we said goodbye, I felt as though I could conquer anything until Pierce sauntered in, switching on my nerve radar.
“Morning, Captain.” He scraped his fingers through his cropped brown hair. “Are you ready for this?”
“Yes, sir.” That was the only answer he wanted, and I prayed that I didn’t look like I was about to puke.
“Good. The techs will be in to help suit you up. Remember your training. Coordinate your breathing and muscle contractions, avoiding large breaths and maintaining pressure to keep the blood flow to the brain.”
Easier said than done.
“I got it, sir,” I replied with confidence. Then I started repeating my mantra Monroe had given me.
I will not G-LOC. I will not G-LOC.
Twenty minutes later, I was in a G-suit, helmet on, strapped into the centrifuge machine. For a second, I closed my eyes and pictured Monroe. Her silky blond hair. Her beautiful green eyes that sucked me in. Her soft voice in my head. You will not G-LOC, Jace.
Then the centrifuge arm started its slow rotation, a low whine building to a rhythmic hum as the steady voice of the tech filled my headset.
“Profile one. Three Gs for thirty seconds. You’re in control, Captain.”
“Copy that.”
I focused on the training that had been drilled into me for years. Breathe. Strain. Recover. The first spin felt easy, like slipping back into an old routine. My lungs expanded, the muscles in my thighs and core tightening to keep the blood flowing to my head.
“You’re doing great, Captain,” the tech said.
I made it to five Gs without a sweat. Piece of cake.
“Ready for profile two. Ramp to eight Gs” came the tech’s voice again.
I exhaled and reminded myself that Tate was alive. Monroe was waiting for me, and this was a machine I could handle. Hell, I’d been successful for years in the cockpit.
The pressure built, pushing me into the seat, compressing my chest until every breath felt like I was lifting weights under water. The digital display climbed. Six point five. Seven point eight. Each number a hammer blow to my ribs.
“Fight’s good, Captain,” the tech said. “Maintain strain.”
I tried to focus on the rhythm of my breathing technique, but my mind wouldn’t stay put. The walls were closing in.
“Captain, legs tight. Pull back on the stick. Breathe.”
I shook off the dizziness as the controls before me were spinning faster, harder. Suddenly, the cockpit tilted. Tate’s shout was swallowed by static.
“Callahan, stay with us,” came Pierce’s voice. “Counter strain. Breathe.”
I tried. Fuck, I tried. But the tunnel was closing fast. My vision was graying, and the world was narrowing to a pinhole of light.
Monroe’s pretty face flickered through the haze. The way she looked at me as if I was her everything.
I reached for that image like it could hold me steady. You will not G-LOC, Jace.
Eight point two Gs. Eight point five.
Suddenly, everything went black for seconds or maybe hours until a muffled voice cut through the darkness, keeping me from spiraling into the abyss.
“Captain Callahan,” someone shouted frantically through the headset, “stay with me.”
I blinked open my eyes, the controls swimming into focus as the centrifuge slowed. My skull pounded as my vision returned in patches. First shapes then colors.
“Are you with me, Captain?” came the tech’s voice.
I tried to speak, but my mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. My hands trembled against the controls, and sweat ran down my back.
“Did I…” I swallowed hard, hating to even ask the question. “Did I G-LOC?”
The silence that followed was answer enough. Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d built my identity around was gone in eight point five seconds.
The doors hissed open, and a medic reached in and unstrapped me.
“I got this,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded foreign to me.
I flew a powerful machine, for fuck’s sake. Surely, I could handle getting out of the centrifuge. At least, I had to show Pierce I had all my faculties, although my mind was the one betraying me, at least this time.
The medic by the name of Hollister backed off as Pierce’s grim expression came into view. A chill tiptoed down my spine. He was the key to signing off on my orders to fly again.
“I didn’t black out,” I said to Pierce, removing my helmet before climbing out on unsteady legs.
Pity washed over him. “You did for five seconds. Long enough to—”
“Don’t say it,” I fired at him as I went over and sat in a chair that gave me the feeling I was in a torture chamber.
Hollister followed me in case I collapsed.
“What happened?” Pierce crossed his arms over his flight suit, studying me with narrowed eyes.
“All your medical and neurological results we’ve done show you’re a healthy individual.
And you were doing great—breathing, muscle engagement, completely alert.
Then your blood pressure dropped dangerously low. ”
“I might’ve blacked out, but I recovered. Quicker this time.”
He snarled. “I don’t give a rat’s ass, Captain. You are not flying until you can show me you can handle nine Gs without even a blip. Are we clear?”
I bit my tongue. “Yes, sir.”
“Again, what the fuck happened?”
If I ever wanted to get into a cockpit again, I had to be honest with him and myself.
Hollister handed me a bottle of water then left Pierce and I alone.
After a long gulp of water, I said, “Tate. The scene when I woke up after my G-LOC. I panicked.”
He held his chin between two fingers. “Mm. I figured as much.” His tone was much calmer. “It’s normal to have those thoughts. It happens more than you think after an accident, especially one like yours. But you have to reconcile your demons.”
I cussed silently to myself. “I can do this. Give me another shot.”
He gave me a look of a man who’d heard that same line too many times. “Not today, Captain. You’re not ready. We’ll reassess next week.”
“Sir—”
“That’s an order, Captain.” His tone brooked no argument. “Take the rest of the day off.”
Blowing out a long, suffering, and painful breath, I braced my elbows on my knees as every nerve buzzed with leftover adrenaline.
Pierce talked to Hollister then collected his clipboard and left.
Hollister cleared his throat. “Sir, I’ll be outside if you need any help.”
“I’m good.” I was far from it.
I was afraid to stand, afraid that my legs might give out. But the last thing I wanted to do was spend any time in the hospital because if I knew Pierce, he would order Hollister to take me. And I wasn’t about to show any weakness, and more importantly, I wouldn’t ruin my date with Monroe tonight.
Hollister made it to the door. “Captain, a piece of unsolicited advice.”
I tossed a look over my shoulder. “What is it?”
“What always helps me to clear my demons is the great outdoors. There isn’t anything better than getting out of Pine Valley with the base in my rearview.”
He might be onto something. Devil’s Hollow had always been my reset button and a place to clear my head.