Page 12 of Spring Break with a Pilot

Soft rock-n-roll is playing in the kitchen. Mia’s mom is at the stove directing six young women, and Melia is working with two others to prepare what looks like homemade biscuits.

A domestic scene right out of Hallmark. One I’ve never experienced. Melia talked about growing up with her mom and grandpa. A family unit who worked together, lived together and loved each other.

I was an upper middle class nobody. An only child, a little above average in studies, average in team sports, average in drive.

My main goal had been just to get out of my hometown and my family as fast as I could. My parents were too busy to pay attention to each other or me, because they were upwardly mobile and had plans for a larger, more impressive house, with more money to flaunt.

I floundered through high school, easily doing the work, but never caring about the outcomes. Nothing felt good except racing my skateboard down the steepest hill, narrowest street, or over the highest jump. Then came my motorized dirt bike, my motorcycle, my own car, and Dad’s speedboat. At sixteen I worked at anything, construction, landscaping, lifeguard to pay for flying lessons. Joining the military, finding my found family with my fellow soldiers saved my life. It gave me a reason to come home.

During time in the army I’d learned I was capable of more when I had the support and people who cared about me. My team, the HARDCORE team who are more bonded than any family.

Now with several of them getting married or at least together with their significant others, I’ve started to feel that same old left behind restlessness.

Until Melia. Now I have a goal. Now I can once again dream of more. A new pulse coursing through me, sends equal spikes of excitement and calm to wash over me. Melia lit my fire and calmed the racing desire and need to run at the same time. She feels like home.

She’ll think I’m crazy. It was too fast. But I know myself, my destiny. I knew I’d be a pilot the first time I rode in a plane. When I stopped in front of the army recruiter’s office I knew. When I met an army ranger on base I knew I’d become one.

Melia is my future.

8

Melia

Trish and I are welcomed and immediately put to work. Meal prep for twelve people takes a bit of work. The atmosphere is a little tense at first as they get to know us too.

Momma, as everyone calls her, assures me the apprehension will pass quickly. “It’s like the first day of school. Everyone is shy and nervous.”

Off the kitchen is a large room that is the length of the house and twelve feet wide. Everyone on the property eats together we’re told.

A series of six-foot picnic tables butted up to each other run the length of the room. With us adding the number to feed, they line up one more table.

The meal is fantastic, and the welcome even better. I can see Trish already relaxing. When everything is cleaned up and put away, Silk and I head to the guest house.

All night he’s been brushing up against me, touching my hand, my arm, my back. It’s taken everything in me not to wrap myself around him and beg him to hold me.

He’s already gone out of his way to help. It’s obvious he’s a good man, a caring man. “What’s wrong, Silk?”

“This feels so right, I’m expecting it to fall apart any minute.”

“What this? You mean this facility?”

“No. I mean you. You being here with me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m fucking this all up. What I’m trying to say is, I want you to stay in Love Beach. Not just because I want to protect you. I want to get to know you.

“I know this is fast and you just came off some scary shit. But I’m drawn to you. I’d like to get to know you more when this is all over and you feel safe. Maybe date.”

“I’d like that, too.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to see your mom. I talked to Bram and he said I can bring you back to the farm until this mess is taken care of in Love Beach.”

“No.”

“No?” He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“No. I’m going to see this through. I’m going to be there to help take down SD. He’s not getting away with what he did to my mother or burning down my home. I’m not running or hiding.”

“It could get dangerous. I want you protected,” he insists.

I cut him off. “Then you’ll protect me.”

---