Page 115 of The Fine Line
He nods—a quiet acknowledgment. We sit in silence for a moment.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you and Sutton end up?—”
His question cuts off when the plane suddenly dips. My stomach lurches. The aircraft shudders violently, then rights itself—just in time for a blinding flash of white light to split across the windows, followed by a deep rumble that rattles the overhead bins.
I gasp, sharp and panicked, and fumble for my window shade. My hands tremble as I manage to open it—revealing anangry gray sky. Another lightning bolt cracks so close I swear I can feel it.
The captain’s voice crackles over the speaker.
“Hey everyone, we’re hitting some pretty bad weather here. Heavy thunderstorms are coming in from the south, so it’s going to take us a bit to get through. It’s gonna get bumpy, so please stay in your seats, fasten your seatbelts, and try to relax.”
Try to relax.
The captain might as well have asked me to fly the damn plane.
I shove the window shade down and press my palms to my thighs, dragging my hands over the fabric of my leggings in a feeble attempt to calm myself. Instead, I dig my nails into my skin as more turbulence shakes the plane.
A high-pitched ding sounds as the seatbelt sign flashes overhead. But with my heart pounding so hard I feel like it might crack a rib, the idea of being restrained sends panic surging through me. I do the opposite of what the captain advises.
With trembling fingers, I unbuckle my seatbelt and bolt upright. I don’t remember deciding to move—just that suddenly, I’m halfway down the aisle toward the back of the plane. I vaguely register Mick asking if I’m okay, but I can’t respond. My vision blurs and my knees wobble as I brace myself on the aisle seats, making my way past five empty rows.
Somehow, I make it to the bathroom, nearly falling inside before I slam the door and slide the lock. I think my plan was to shut out the storm, to pretend it didn’t exist if I couldn’t see it through the windows. But in here, the fear only sharpens.
I may not be able toseethe storm, but I can feel every jerk, drop, and sway of the plane echoing in my bones. The hiss of wind, the groan of metal, the deep rumble beneath us—it’s all louder in this tiny space. My pulse spikes.
I brace myself against the sink, head tipped back, gasping forair. But when the plane lurches again, I fold in on myself, covering my head with my hands. The sounds blur into a steady whine of white noise. Dizziness begins to take me over just as three knocks cut through the chaos.
At first, I think it’s something rattling in a storage bin, but the knock comes again.
“It’s t–taken,” I manage to croak, pulling my sweater collar over my face and breathing hard.
“It’s me.”
Even through my trembling, my body goes still.
“Are you okay?”
The plane bumps hard again. I can’t speak.
Another knock. “Cub, let me in.”
I can’t think straight. Can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t respond. But when Rhett adds a quiet, “Please?” my hand shoots out on instinct, unlatching the door just enough to let it slide open.
I stumble back as it does—but Rhett doesn’t hesitate. He slips inside and shuts the door behind him in one quick motion.
“Cub?”
“H–hi,” I gasp, tugging my sweater down just enough to see him. “I–I can’t?—”
The plane sways hard, nearly toppling me, but Rhett catches the counter, planting one arm on either side of me and steadying us both.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, cupping my cheek. “I know. It’s okay, Baby Bear. You’re okay.”
“W–we are literally inside of a f–fucking storm,” I stammer.
“And we’re gonna get through it,” he says, brushing his thumb along my cheekbone.
“How can you know that?” I whisper, meeting his eyes.
