Page 71 of Fly Boy
Glancing around, I pull a hand towel from the rail and turn on the faucet, letting it warm up while rummaging around in thevanity, searching for cream or ointment or something to soothe what I did.
She’s still lying on her back, staring at my ceiling as I walk back into the room, warm towel and antiseptic in hand. Turning her head, she watches me as I join her on the bed and gently run the towel over her chest, paying particular attention to the scratches. She closes her eyes as I dab on the cream before continuing to wipe her body, guiding the towel between her legs. Parting them for me, a whimper escapes her lips.
“Sorry,” I murmur, grimacing when I notice her muscles tense.
She smiles lazily and cracks open her eyes to look at me. “It’s just a little sensitive.”
I shake my head. “I was too rough.”
“No,” she says firmly, her fingers circling my wrist, pushing the towel harder between her legs, proving a point. “I liked it, Wyatt. I would have told you to stop otherwise.”
“I can run you a bath?”
“I’mfine,” she says, tugging the towel from my grasp and tossing it onto the floor. “Stop worrying.” Grabbing my shoulder, she maneuvers me beside her, forcing me onto my back and drawing the comforter over us. She rolls on top of me and rests her chin on her balled-up hands as she gazes up. “Why did you want to become a pilot?”
“More pillow talk?”
“What? It’s not that bad.” She smirks. “And it’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while anyway.”
“You should try to get some more sleep, Pippa,” I say, glancing at the clock on my nightstand, the red letters glowing 4:32. Her alarm will go off in twenty-eight minutes.
“Sleep is overrated,” she replies, wriggling to get comfortable. “Besides, you know why I chose figure skating, so it's only fair I know more about you.”
Her eyes are filled with so much intrigue it’s almost painful to look at her. The truth is staring me straight in the face. Ilikethat she wants to get to know me,likethe man I am when I let her in.
Pippa pouts her lower lip, silently pleading, and the corners of my mouth twitch in amusement. I lift my gaze to the ceiling, taking a deep breath. How can I resist that look?
“When my dad and Sadie got more serious about each other, they started doing all thesechild-friendlydates now and then…y’know, as a way for me to get to know her and vice versa, I guess.” I feel Pippa nod, and I look down at her, my fingers threading into her hair to massage her scalp as I continue. “She was amazing, always asking where I wanted to go and what I wanted to do. Once, we went to visit her cousin, who’s got this ranch in Montana with horses and shit, but I was petrified of the damn things.” Pippa smothers a laugh. “There was this one time that my dad took us to D.C., which at the time I thought was pretty flashy for him, taking his girlfriend and son across the country for a vacation… It turned out he was going to propose to her. He took me out for breakfast, sat me down with a mountain of pancakes, and asked if I wanted to make Sadie a permanent part of our family. I asked if that included her brother's horses.”
“So young Wyatt was only okay if it didn’t include the horses?”
“Something like that,” I chuckle lightly. “Anyway, I was excited, especially ’cause that meant I got to wear a tux as his best man. She said yes, obviously, got married in a courthouse the next day and they have been sickeningly in love ever since.”
“That doesn’t explain the pilot thing,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
“I’m getting to that bit,” I say, playfully tugging her hair, before muttering, “Such a damn brat… Anyway, Sadie’s really into history and museums, so after the wedding, we went to as many Smithsonian museums as we could fit in before mygrandparents met us and took me back to Phoenix so they could have a honeymoon.
“Her favorite was the National Air and Space Museum. She took me around the entire place, holding my hand, reading me every sign, and explaining everything. She bought me something from the gift shop—an old-school fighter jet helmet—and I would wear it all the time, running around our yard, arms held wide, pretending to fly.
“Then, in high school, when I realized the NFL wasn’t going to be calling me up and giving me a big, fat signing bonus, I needed to think of a new career path.”
“You really wanted to play pro football?”
I half-huff, half-laugh. “What young boy doesn’t want to be paid to play the sport he loves? But since that was a pipe dream anyway, I asked Sadie to help me look into becoming a pilot.”
Pippa’s smile is filled with so much affection it makes my mouth dry. “I love that. I didn’t realize that your stepmom had such a big influence on you growing up.”
A hand reaches into my chest, clenching my heart in a vice-like hold as I think back to that day. I’d almost forgotten about it, a memory from the past in a life that seems so long ago. Without Sadie, I wouldn’t be doing the thing I love every single week.
“Neither did I,” I voice aloud.
Pippa doesn’t give me any time to dwell on my revelation as she fires another question. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
I balk. “Really? Aren’t past lovers an off-limits question?”
“Past lovers,” she snorts. “Okay, Grandpa. I forgot you probably had to write letters to potential dates or walk to the nearest payphone or…”
She squeals, wriggling against me as I reach down and pinch her ass. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
