Page 27 of The Pilot's Good Girl
“You thought wrong,” she says, flat. “You walked out. Just like you walked her into that car.”
The words hit like a gut punch.
My grip tightens on the phone. “I didn’t walk her into anything. We were just trying to get home.”
“You were exhausted. You shouldn’t have been behind the wheel. You shouldn’t have—” Her voice breaks for the briefest second, then hardens again. “You were the driver, Ruby.”
“I know,” I whisper, my throat tight. “Don’t you think I know that? I replay that night every time I close my eyes. If I could take it back—”
“But you can’t,” she snaps. “You can’t, and now she’s gone.”
My jaw clenches. “That’s why I left. Because all you do is look at me like I killed her on purpose.”
“I never said that.”
“You don’t have to,” I choke out. “It’s in every word you don’t say.”
There’s silence on the other end. Long and heavy.
“I didn’t call to fight,” she finally says.
“Then why did you call?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Another pause. “Just wanted to know if you were still breathing.”
I let that sit for a beat. A bitter laugh escapes me. “Yeah. Still breathing. Sorry to disappoint.”
She doesn’t respond.
“I have to go,” I say, blinking fast. “The retreat needs me.”
“Of course they do.”
She hangs up.
I let the phone fall into my lap, my whole body sagging with the weight of that conversation. I press my fists to my eyes and take a deep breath, willing the tears to stop. Not now. Not here.
A sharp knock on the truck window makes me jump. I turn to see Leanne, our assistant camp director, peering in with her blonde hair tied up and a clipboard under one arm. Her brows are knit together with urgency.
I roll down the window. “Hey.”
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she says quickly. “We’ve got you on craft duty in an hour, and I also have a spot to fill for the rafting group tomorrow—one of the guides can’t make it.”
“Oh, bummer,” I say, getting out of the car. “I can do it, no problem.”
“Thank you! It’s just for this float. Doug’s taking the lead, but they need a second in the raft. Just in case.”
The moment she says Doug’s name, my stomach twists.
God, why him?
I hesitate, but I also know how fast these rafting trips can go sideways without backup. So I force a smile. “Great.”
***
The next morning, I find myself cinched into a life vest, helping guests into the raft. Doug stands at the back, paddle in hand, grinning like he owns the river. He catches my eye and gives me that smirky little nod he’s always throwing around like it’s supposed to make panties drop.
It does the opposite for me.
