Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(65)

Now we sang for Joker.

The music filled the O-Club bar, the lyrics the standard fighter pilot fare—plenty of f*cks dropped, female body parts mentioned—an ode to the world we lived in, to a life on the edge. But even though the lyrics harkened back to wilder days, the tone told a different story. We sang, our voices thick with grief, thirty something voices united in pain and loss.

And as the sound crested, spilling out the doors, voices getting louder, the chant taking on a life of its own, I swore I could feel Joker standing beside me like he’d done so many times before, slightly off key, shot glass in hand.

And so as we came to the end, as we lingered over those last notes as though we were reluctant to let them go, I lifted my glass in the air, toasting one of the greatest men I’d ever known.

And then I shot the liquor back, the bitter taste sending a fire down my throat as I said good-bye.



JORDAN

At some point in the night, I made my way to Dani’s guest bed. I woke the next morning, my body stiff from hours spent sitting on the bathroom floor, my heart aching.

I walked into the kitchen, surprised to see Dani sitting on one of the stools at the granite countertop, a mug of coffee in hand.

She looked much as she had last night. Pale. Worn. Devastated.

I walked toward her and gave her a hug, words failing me.

“I always knew,” she whispered.

My stomach clenched.

“He talked about getting out in two years.” Her voice shook. “I couldn’t get excited about it. I couldn’t see us in that life. Couldn’t imagine him coming home at 6 p.m. in a business suit.” A tear trickled down her face. Then another. “I always knew we would end up like this.”

I wrapped my arms around her again while she sobbed, her slim frame shuddering in my embrace. I didn’t speak, but then again, there weren’t words for this. I didn’t know how long we stayed like that, but eventually she pulled back, her eyes red and swollen.

“What time are the jets getting in?” she asked, her voice strained.

I froze. “Dani . . .”

“What time?”

Noah had texted me this morning to tell me that they had the arrival plans sorted out; I was planning on going to the squadron to pick him up. They were working on the memorial service for Joker, and I’d told him I’d talk to Dani about what she wanted to do. It was definitely not a conversation I was looking forward to; I had no idea how to even broach a topic like that. But now we were talking about the rest of the squadron coming home, and I didn’t know how to handle that one, either.

“The first cell lands tomorrow at four,” I answered, my voice cracking with each word.

“Who’s in the cell?”

God. I couldn’t make myself say the words. Couldn’t push them out. It felt wrong for his name not to be in that list.

Her gaze met mine. “Who’s in the cell?”

“Noah, Thor, Easy, and Merlin.”

Her whole body shuddered, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in air.

“We don’t need to talk about this, Dani. Not now. Don’t worry about the landing. We have it sorted out.”

“It’s Joker’s squadron. Those are his guys. I’m his wife.”

“Dani . . .”

“I have to be there.” She choked out the words. “I have to be there for him. He would have wanted me to be there. I need to represent him.”

I bit down on my cheek, fighting back tears. I couldn’t lose it when she managed to hold herself together. I couldn’t imagine having the strength to watch those jets land.





TWENTY-FOUR




JORDAN

I gripped Dani’s hand so hard our nails dug into each other, our eyes trained to the gray sky. Families held signs, children playing in the grass near the flight line, and despite the fact that this was a homecoming, there was very little happiness about it. No one spoke. No one smiled. We all stood there, tension cloaking us, the knowledge that one less pilot was coming home casting a shadow over the entire day.

And then there was Dani.

She stood ramrod straight, the center of everything.

I didn’t know how she did it. I couldn’t have done it. There was a grace that flowed from her now. The kind of strength that I didn’t even know existed, of enduring the unendurable.

It was a different kind of courage; the kind that didn’t get praised with American flags waving in the air, or parades, or people coming up to shake your hand and thank you for your service.

There was no uniform for this, no outward evidence that she’d suffered an unspeakable loss, that she’d given her life to her country in an entirely different way than those who risked their lives to fight for our freedom.

She gave a whole new meaning to the concept of sacrifice.

I squeezed her hand, and then we heard it, the sound of jets in the sky, everyone’s attention riveted to the clouds, searching for the first plane, for the first spot of hope, that while nothing would ever be all right again, at least we could put a tourniquet on our loss, and somehow, impossibly, begin to heal.

My heart pounded as I searched the cloudy sky, as I waited, my fingers gripping Dani’s even tighter, tension flooding my limbs until my body felt like it had been filled with lead. Like I was underwater, fighting for breath.