Page 37 of Oathbreaker

I know that he’ll manipulate this conversation if he has his way.

But he’s saved by Jami’s return with our drinks. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mr.Brigham?” Twin pink spots settle high on her cheeks.

“No. Thanks.”

Jami leaves, and a confusing whirl of emotions bubbles to the surface of my psyche.

“What was that, Hunter?” I ask with a low tone.

“What?” he asks with a confused look on his face.

“The flight attendant,” I say. “What’s her deal?”

Hunter lifts his whiskey to his mouth.

I want to press, but the jet chooses that moment to start taxiing down the runway.

A wave of panic hits me, my throat closing and my vision narrowing. The reality that this is my first time flying since my parents’ death hits me in the face.

All of a sudden, this—this—sends me over the edge.

I catalog all the senses around me: Three things I can see. Three things I can hear. Three things I can feel.

What can I see? I see, I see, I— What can I hear? The whirring—the engines. I?—

Hunter grabs my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. And as much as I want to pull away, I don’t. The press of his palm is the only thing keeping me in this seat.

We reach cruising altitude, and without a warning, Hunter turns to me and says, “Let’s go.”

I still hold Hunter’s hand. I start to pull away, but he tightens his grasp. Nothing about it is painful.

I don’t ask him where we’re going because, obviously, we can go only a few places on the airplane. He guides me through the aisle toward a pocket door near the back of the plane.

We slide into the main bedroom on the 767.

He starts to undress.

“H, what are you—what is…?” I’m stammering and stuttering, and I feel like the walls are closing in. I hate this feeling. I love his body. But right now? I cannot look at it.

He pauses with his shirt open and his hand on the button of his jeans. “We have an hour before we land in D.C., and I can barely keep my eyes open. I figured we could sleep together.”

At the look I must be giving him, he quickly adds, “To sleep, Sunbeam. Sleeping only.”

I feel myself nodding over and over, way more than necessary.

He gives me a sad half-smile and then buttons his shirt back up. Once he’s fully clothed again, he pulls back the comforter.

“Please rest with me, baby,” he says. He looks earnest.

I force my muscles to unlock, and I crawl into the bed. The soft mattress feels like a cloud compared to the hard, sterile bedding in the hospital. I block out the sensations of what my sleeping arrangements felt like while with Adam.

Block it out. Block it out. Block it out.

Hunter climbs beside me, keeping at least half a foot between our bodies. I count each square on the fabric-covered ceiling panels. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his profile—his locked gaze fixed on the area above us.

Does it count as the mile-high club if you only sleep with someone on a plane?

As I settle into the bed, I release a puff of air, a facsimile of a laugh.

---