Page 79 of Come Fly with Me

After I park my car and take the crew bus to the terminal, I push through security as quickly as I can. I ignore pretty much everyone who tries to talk to me, my phone permanently pressed against my ear as I repeatedly call Taylor.

But she never picks up. My calls all going to voicemail until eventually, I get a notification that her mailbox is full.

I send her a quick text just as I walk into the pilot’s lounge, scanning the room for any sign of her. But I can’t find her anywhere and everyone I ask hasn’t seen her.

“Fuck,” I mutter, turning and walking out. I head over to the office to get our papers before heading to the plane, knowing this is the one place she can’t avoid me.

When I get onboard, I ignore the crew and head straight for the cockpit, going through the paperwork and checklists with the ground crew as I wait for Taylor to finally show up.

Finally, I hear the cockpit door open, and I turn in my seat, already halfway to the door as I ready myself for the million apologies and explanations I know I owe her. God, if I could go back and fix this, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Hey,” a guy I’ve never seen before says, holding out his hand to me.

“Hi,” I say warily, shaking his hand as I glance behind him. “Where’s Taylor?” I ask, not giving a shit that I’m kind of breaking protocol by referring to her like that.

He grins, shrugging as he says, “Family emergency, apparently. I’m Captain Rick Simmons,” he adds.

“What?”

His grin widens as he says, “I mean, Tahiti. Can you believe it?”

I say nothing, my brain going a million miles an hour as I try to work out what the fuck is going on right now.

“Last minute call-up,” he continues, apparently oblivious to my what the fuck moment right now. “I wasn’t gonna say no. Tropical island, booze, flight crew,” he adds, a smarmy smile on his face as he jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Anyway, should we get started? You called in with dispatch?”

I ignore his question, instead, pulling my phone from my pocket as I glance at the screen. My thumb brushes over it, illuminating the screen and bringing up the image Taylor sent me last time we were apart: the one of her, naked beneath a white sheet.

My stomach sinks at the realization of what’s happened, at the knowledge that I may have completely fucked this up because I was too much of a coward to tell her something that I should have told her long ago.

Please don’t tell me I’ve totally fucked this up.

Twenty-Seven

Taylor

I’m stupidly standing on the corner with smeared mascara and a red nose, looking like a hooker who’s fallen on hard times when Carrie pulls up.

She pulls up along the curb and rolls down her window calling out, “Hey, sugar, you lookin’ for a date?”

And despite how completely shitty I feel, she gets a small chuckle out of me before I climb into the passenger seat and start sobbing.

Silence passes between us because Carrie knows better than to give advice and she also knows I won’t say a word. I’ll spend the next week in emotional survival mode. I’ll house vodka for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’ll cry on the kitchen floor and wallow in my own stupidity, but then I’ll pick myself back up. I’ll remind myself that I can’t be broken and that from this disaster will come something amazing.

If you fuck me over, I’ll come back stronger.

“He’s married,” I eventually mutter out, and again Carrie says nothing. Her diplomacy is brewing in her head right now, and while she would never defend the men I’ve been with, she knows I’m manic right now.

We pull in my driveway, and I know I can’t stay at my house because it will be the first place Jake will look. He’s probably already on his way here, processing and rehearsing what he’s going to say to me to defend his typical shitty behavior, so I move quickly into the house.

I have no idea how I didn’t see this coming. After Trent, I had my guard up, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt me. But dropping that wall just set me up for the same lying and cheating.

“Are you staying with us tonight?” Carrie calls after me as I take the steps two at a time up to my bedroom.

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

I’m even starting to wonder why Crescent Airways doesn’t have a no fraternization policy. It might be the only thing that keeps me from making idiotic mistakes like this again. There’d be a load of pissed off people, though, given this career is known for being free and loose on layovers.

I toss everything I’ll need in a bag, including my uniform, even though I’m starting to wonder if Jake will bother pursuing me since I’m supposed to be flying with him in just a bit. The idea of being trapped with him in that tiny-ass cockpit is not my idea of a good time. I need to put in for a reserve pilot, and I send up a silent thank you that I’m flying out of LAX. Not all airports have pilots on reserve for things like this and will tend to cancel a flight when the pilot is unable to get there. At least I won’t have a cancellation hanging over my head in addition to this shit show.

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