Page 18 of Keeping It
“I know,” he says. “I’m under duress.”
“It makes a pretty good racket during takeoff.” Releasing his hand, I hand him earphones. “You can talk to me if you need to by pushing this button.”
He grins. “This is just like my comm. I’ll just go ahead and pretend I’m on a mission. Okay, boss?” he asks. “Although I’m not typically this sweaty when I’m on a mission.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers. Once we’re at cruising we can take them off. It’s not so noisy,” I reply. He puts on the set and I pull away from the hangar and roll toward the runway.
This does feel like a mission. I’ve never taken a guy up before. My friends will ask for a ride every once in a while, but somehow this feels more intimate. I’m sharing my whole self with Tahoe and I wonder if he realizes it. I glance at him to find him clutching the seat. I laugh, but he can’t hear me. The plane roars down the runway and I make adjustments for a slight wind, and in a short time we’re airborne. I check measurements and when I’m sure we’re at a safe altitude and speed I sneak a hand over to nudge him.
His eyes are slammed shut, face contorted as if he’s in pure agony—awaiting his meeting with the devil himself. “I’m not going to kill you,” I tell him, clicking the button so he can hear me. “You can take the set off. Look around.” He does, and his face morphs into something more recognizable—beautiful. He’s so large next to me, taking up space that is usually empty.
It’s clear and beautiful outside. The view never fails to take my breath away. The ocean glitters, and the lush greenery of a landscape blessed by a near continuous stream of spring rain lays in front of us as far as the eye can see. “This is why I had to be a pilot,” I admit. “The peace up here. Away from everything down there.”
“I’ve jumped out of hundreds of planes and I have to admit, I’ve never actually appreciated the view until I was a part of it, falling toward earth,” he says, joking. “I understand,” he says, turning his head to look directly at me. “You look beautiful up here,” he says.
“Now, that’s a compliment,” I tell him. “Thank you.” It reminds me of my conversation with Caleb earlier, and then my mama.
Tahoe pulls at the harness holding him in, still not at ease by this point in flight. The breeze isn’t as strong now, and I’m able to cruise and really enjoy the view. “Do you think you’ll be leaving Bronze Bay?” I ask, insecurity eating at me. “I know you told me this is your permanent base, but I was wondering how long permanent is in your world.”
He bites his lip. “As permanent as it is in yours, Caroline. I might leave to do a mission here or there, maybe I’ll have to do training in another state for a week or two, but this is it.”
“Was that always the plan?” I ask. My heart knocks against my chest. “Or, did something change?”
He grins a lopsided smirk, and it does things to my insides that should be illegal. “I’m a SEAL, I pretty much can do whatever I want. This isn’t Big Navy,” he says, keeping his grip on the straps crossing down his chest. “I told Leif today that this was a permanent change. After the entire squadron hazed me for having a girlfriend.”
I must look disgusted or horrified, because he adds, “I’m joking, Sunny. We don’t haze people. They make jokes on a group message thread and draw penises on sticky notes and put them on my locker. Nothing that will seriously hurt me. I mean, maybe they hurt my pride, but I’ll take it if it means you’re mine. I’m here. This is it.” The confession is as surprising as it is terrifying.
I swallow hard. “You know just what to say. It’s quite unnerving.”
“Wait! You’re flying a plane in an open sky, and my words are what are unnerving? You need to check your priorities.” Granted, maybe for a second or two, I did forget I was flying a plane even though my hands are firmly placed on the control column.
“You’re still mine today, then?” Tahoe asks, raising his voice to make sure he’s heard.
“Depends,” I say, flicking my gaze back to my instruments. “Are you all in?” I ask, remembering my mother’s suggestion. “I have it on good authority that all or nothing is the way to go about anything in life. Especially in relationships.” Not that I know a hill of beans about relationships, but if Mama said it, it has to be.
“I have it on the authority that all or nothing is theonlyway to go abouteverythingin life,” he replies, tilting his chin to the view in front of us. “I’m all in, pilot.”
I’m giddy. In my happy place with an infuriating, misunderstood man that has transformed into a sweet, interesting man. Or maybe he was only infuriating because I didn’t know him, or wasn’t open to viewing him in any other light except the one I assigned him by looks and first impression alone. How many people have I done that to in the past? Smiling, I point to his base and he cranes his neck forward to look at it.
Instead of looking at the black buildings and fence like an eyesore that stole my memories, I see it as something that gave me something new and exciting. Tahoe. I tell him several stories about Crick’s beach. They span from when I was a kid and broke my arm jumping off a sand pile, trying to touch the sky, to when I was in high-school and the bon fires we had that would send the fire department out here every single time.
The blue water is clear. It’s one of the few places around that isn’t polluted…yet. Tahoe’s smile vanishes and his brows pull inward. “I’m sorry about the beach. The Navy does what they want, and everything is far more complicated than I could explain. The plus side is you can come visit me there anytime you want.” It’s not a consolation prize, I can tell he knows it’s not the same just by his grimace. I make a few adjustments and edge over the water a bit more. Tahoe points. “I’m thinking of building a house over there,” he says. Tahoe has told me before how he built his house in San Diego from the ground up. He sold it when he came to Bronze Bay and I can’t imagine how sad that must have been for him. When you pour your blood sweat and tears into something—try to make it as perfect as you can, and then you’re told you can’t have that or see that anymore, it changes you inside. Well, it would be like someone telling me I had to move out of my apartment and there’s no way I’d ever want to. “I’m not sure if I should tear down the building or build something new.”
“The Homer Property? Did you buy it? It’s been in their family for years!” I exclaim when I see what he’s pointing out, and telling me about his potential plans.
It’s the first time he’s relaxed in the cockpit. “It’s close to work, and now that you don’t need my help anymore, I need something to do.” He waggles his hands in front of him. “I have to keep these busy. If I’m not working or,” he says, trailing off, “hanging out with you, I’ll need something to call my own.” It’s time to turn around, the sun is setting, giving everything around us a sweet golden hue. The sky is free of clouds except for a clump to our right that look like a fluffy cotton candy. Tahoe talks about several different plans. “Maybe you can help me?” he says, trying to lure me back into the conversation.
The Homer property is an enormous chunk of land on the water. The Bed and Breakfast that was there for years, since I was a child, closed after the attacks and never reopened. The land sat with a for sale sign for some time and I assumed the city would buy it to regain waterfront property back after the base gobbled up a chunk. I don’t even want to think of the consequences when the Bronze Bay gossip gets ahold of this information. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It comes out a bit catty, but that’s not my intent. I’m mostly confused as to why something like this would strike his fancy.
He pauses, silence, but for the wind, rustling around us. “The deal began right when I moved here. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to be official. Is it a big deal? You’re upset?”
Shrugging off his question I explain, “It’s a big commitment, that’s all. It also gives permanent a new definition. Owning a house.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “In Bronze Bay.”
I don’t dare look at him. “Just because I own a house doesn’t mean anything. I’ve built houses before, remember? Old ladies like jigsaw puzzles, grandpas like rummy or backgammon, I like fixing shit. Houses. It’s not a big deal.” It’s a reminder I needed.
“I guess so. You can’t tear down that bed and breakfast though. The town will crucify you more than they already are.”
He laughs. “I wasn’t aware I was being nailed.” The innuendo is so strong I have to squeeze my legs together. “I’ll do what I want, but I will take your considerations to heart,” he amends, folding his hand over mine. “Investing in property is practical.” If he asked Leif to make Bronze Bay his permanent home just today, then this really is an investment purchase started well before he knew me.
