Page 26 of The Pilot's Good Girl
Danny slaps my shoulder. “I’m happy for you, man. Whatever this is? Don’t screw it up.”
I nod, returning his smile. “Thanks, buddy.”
An image of Ruby rises unbidden in my mind and I feel my chest constrict love and happiness. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
Oh, yeah. I’m in love with Ruby Jackson and I’m done overthinking it.
I’ve fought wildfires with less conviction than what I feel for her.
She’s mine. And I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.
Chapter Nine
Ruby
It’s midmorning when I finally roll back into the retreat, Jake’s truck lumbering into the staff lot like a steel dinosaur. I park way off-center and just sit there, my fingers still gripping the wheel like I’m bracing for impact. My arms ache from how tightly I’ve been clutching it the entire ride.
I drove like a damn snail the whole way. Probably pissed off half of Sun Valley with how slow I was crawling through town.
But honestly? I’m glad I took the wheel. Jake’s truck smells like him—like pine and smoke and something that just feels like home. The steering wheel is too big, the seat too stiff, the console crowded with man things I don’t even know how to use. But I’d do it all again if it meant keeping a piece of Jake with me.
It’s only been an hour since he flew off to be a hero, and I already miss him like crazy.
Which is completely insane.
What are we even doing?
I press my forehead against the window, letting the cool glass temper the burn in my chest. One day. That’s all it’s been. Less, even. But the truth is, I’ve fallen for him. Completely.Hopelessly. My heart’s not just in this, it’s out there with him right now, flying low over flames and risking everything.
And what if he doesn’t feel the same?
What if I’m just a fun distraction, a summer fling to forget once fire season ends?
My phone rings in the cup holder, jolting me from the inward spiral. I blink at the screen.
Mom.
My heart skips a nervous beat. It’s the first time she’s called since I left home. I hesitate before answering, thumb hovering over the screen. A part of me hopes she’s reaching out to say she misses me. Maybe even to check in and make peace. But that’s wishful thinking. We don’t do peace. Not since Morgan died.
I hit accept and bring the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
There’s a pause. Then her voice reaches me, tight and clipped. “You’re alive.”
I blink. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
She hesitates. “I saw the fire on the news. Was it near you?”
She actually sounds like maybe she was really worried. That’s unexpected. “I saw it up close,” I admit. “But I’m safe.”
She hums, not revealing any emotion. “So you really want to be a camp counselor?”
I bite back a sigh. “Yeah, I mean…it’s a great job for me right now. I get to help people, be outside a lot. It’s beautiful here.”
Another pause. “How nice for you. Some of us don’t get to escape.”
There it is. The old resentment, dressed up in politeness but sharp enough to draw blood.
I press my lips together. “I left because I couldn’t breathe in that house anymore. And I thought maybe you’d understand.”
