Chapter 70 – Emerson
SEVENTY
EMERSON
“This is depressing,”
Desi sighs from her spot beside me on the top step of my stairs that lead into my apartment. We are currently watching the small crane lift the Blue Skies sign off the top of the office. “I wish there were something I could do.”
“There isn’t.” I take a sip of wine from my red Solo cup. “Sometimes you chase the dream and you catch it, other times you fall short.” The words sound good in theory, but they feel like shit when they’re reality.
“Are you really going to leave me?” she asks.
And leave Grant.
“What am I supposed to do, Des? In a month, I’m out of a place to live, and I don’t have a paycheck coming in to pay rent.”
“Easy. You move in with me.”
“Thanks. You know I appreciate the offer, but then what? Where do I work? I’m not qualified to do anything other than jump. Sure, I could try, but being chained to a desk . . . not having that rush? It would kill me.”
“Then maybe you do something else for a bit—help me with Doggy Style—and wait to see what happens out here with whoever bought this place. They might need help. It might not be jumping, but at least you’d be where you’re comfortable.”
“I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Pride doesn’t pay the bills, Em.”
“Neither does killing your spirit.
“The offer still stands.”
“Thanks. It’s generous of you, but how long can I hang on? It’s as if I’ve spent all this time dreaming of making this place my own, and now that I have the idea, I don’t want to settle. I shouldn’t have to settle.”
“Have you told him?” Desi says, lifting her chin to Grant’s car, which is heading down the highway toward us.
“Told him what?”
“That you love him? That you’re leaving? Either or.”
Tears spring in my eyes at just her words. “No to both,” I whisper.
“I figured as much. You want to tell me why not?”
I shrug, my mental turmoil over the past few days returning. “He’s been super busy. Doing all kinds of stuff for the chief to make amends for his suspension.”
“Ah, so the truth comes out. You haven’t been hanging out with me because I’m your first pick, but rather because you don’t have him to hang out with.
I don’t do well being sloppy seconds.” She laughs, and I know this is her way of trying to add levity, but I don’t smile.
“So he’s been so busy you couldn’t tell him you were going to leave?
That sounds more like chicken shit to me than anything. ”
“I’m scared to,” I say as his cruiser pulls into the parking lot. I know we still have time to talk because he usually has paperwork to finish before clocking off shift.
“Why? Because once you say it, you can’t take it back?
Or is it because once you tell him you’re planning to leave, he’s going to lose his ever-loving mind?
My bet is you’re avoiding telling him you love him but you aren’t in love with him enough to stick around to save yourself from that hurt?
” She purses her lips and gives me an I-don’t-believe-a-word-you’re-saying look. “Self-preservation.”
“It isn’t like I’m not going to try to make it work. I’ll drive back on weekends—”
“Which are the busiest days for jumps.”
“I’ll make my off days match his so we can be together.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Desi, I love him, damn it. I want to make this work. I’m doing the best I fricking can, so stop the guilt trip, will you?”
She smiles. “I know you do. I also know you run when you’re scared.
You put the pedal to the metal and race the wind and follow wherever it takes you .
. . but I’m calling you on it this time.
I’m holding you accountable. I’m not letting you leave us without knowing the exact day you are coming back . . . and it better be less than seven.”
“It’s only temporary.”
She stands, saying, “It better be,” before walking down the stairs without looking back and stopping when she reaches Grant in the parking lot.
She laughs about something, and there’s an easiness between them—my lover and my best friend—that tells me I’ve built something here.
A family. A place I belong. Every part of me wishes things didn’t have to change.
I watch the crane lift the old sign, its beeping filling the air as it swings it to the far side of the building, and I hate it. Everything about it.
As Grant heads in my direction, I make my way down the stairs.
“Are you ready for date night?” he asks as he closes the distance. “I just have to change real quick and I’ll be—what’s that?” he asks as he notices the storage containers stacked at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi.” I pull him toward me and kiss him hello with an unexpected desperation that suddenly feels so real.
I don’t want to lose him.
I don’t want to lose this feeling.
But I also don’t want to lose who I am.
“Whoa. Well, if that’s the kind of greeting I get when I come here when my shift ends, then I’ll be here every day at this time.” He chuckles against my lips as I just pull him into me and hold on tighter.
How am I going to tell him?
How am I going to convince him I’m not going to leave again?
“Em, I can put these with my shit when I take this trip . . .” Leo says as he turns the corner, his words trailing off when he sees Grant standing in front of me.
“Trip to where?” Grant asks as he takes notice that the containers are labeled as kitchen, desk, and bathroom. Grant looks from me to Leo and then back to me. “What the hell is going on, Emerson?” He’s already shaking his head, rejecting the notion that he already knows.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about tonight,” I say, my voice barely audible. In my periphery, I see Leo slowly slink away and wish I could go with him. If the look on Grant’s face is any indication, our date night is about to turn into a blowout fight.
“You’re not going anywhere!” The workers pulling down the sign turn to look at us, prompting him to grab my wrist and all but drag me up the stairs so we can have privacy, which is a huge mistake.
When he enters my flat and sees everything stacked in partially filled boxes, the hurt is written all over his face.
I could have played it off before. I had planned to tell him I was prepping for the end of the month, but him seeing Leo and knowing Leo is moving on to Fly High is all he needs to draw the conclusion.
He stares at me, a plethora of emotions flickering through those brown eyes of his and every single one of them—hurt, disappointment, disbelief—is paralyzing. “Were you going to tell me, Em? Or were you going to leave in the middle of the night because you were too scared to face me?”
“I told you I was going to tell you tonight.” I take a step toward him. “It isn’t what you’re thinking, Grant.”
“It isn’t? What exactly am I thinking, then?”
“I’m a restless soul. Blue Skies was my chance to settle, and now it’s gone. The new owner hasn’t said boo, and for all I know, they’re going to raze the place. They’ve already cleaned out the hangar. It’s written on the wall, my days here are limited.”
“You don’t know what the new owners are going to do. They’re already starting to make changes, taking the sign down, what have you. You have a month left on your rent, why not stay here and see what happens first?”
“In theory, it sounds good. But everything sounds good in theory. If it is a new flight school, that takes time to set up. Certifications, insurance . . . I can’t wait around for six months to see if I can start my life again,” I murmur, as if speaking the words softly will make them hurt him less.
“What about me, Emerson? What about us?” The way he says it—the hurt emanating off every word—makes it hard for me to think.
“We’ll make it work. It’s only temporary.
Hopefully, this will be a flight school and I can come back and figure out a new dream to chase, but in the meantime, it’s only two hours away.
There are days off and phone calls and FaceTime.
We’ll make it work.” I’m pretty much begging for him to believe me, but the look on his face says he’s not convinced.
“It isn’t the same, and you know it.”
“I know, but it’s doable.”
“What if I told you that you’re not going? That I’m not going to let you go.”
Every part of me surges with his words, already knowing he wants me to stay but still needing to hear it. I chuckle. “Then I’d tell you that you know me well enough to know the quickest way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t.”
“Is it that hard for you to need someone, Em? Is it that hard for you to need me?”
“No.” I’m just so conditioned not to need anything from anyone that my heart twists at the lie buried under all the truth in that one word.
“Then need me, damn it. Use me.” I watch the hurt manifest itself to anger. “Stay at my house. Live with me while we figure this out. Do anything but run away because running away is the chicken shit way to deal with this situation.”
There’s the second time in ten minutes I’ve been called that.
“I’m not running, Grant.”
“You sure about that?” His eyes bore into mine as everything about him screams defeat.
“I’m sure.”
“Good, then you won’t mind if I do this,” he says as he steps forward and, before I can even process what he’s doing, slaps a handcuff on my wrist and the other on his. “See? It’s that simple. You’re not going.”
And just as quickly as my heart breaks, my temper fires. “Are you kidding me? What are you doing?”
“Did you really think I was going to let you go without a fight? I’ve lost you once before, Em.
You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let it happen again.
” Every part of me melts at his words and wants to surrender right here, right now to whatever he asks.
I remember the emptiness I felt when I left him before.
I remember how lonely I was, and I don’t want that ever again.
“So, you’re going to handcuff me?” I shriek, eyes wide and disbelief reigning. Amid the stubborn anger I have rioting inside me, a small piece of me wants to laugh at him. This is so us that it’s ridiculous. But I can’t. I won’t. At least not outwardly.