Fly With Me (Wild Aces #1)(68)

Noah sat hunched over at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He’d managed to unzip his flight suit and shrug out of the shoulders, but he hadn’t gotten any farther than that, so he sat there, half-undressed, staring at his boots as though he could will them off.

I sat on the bed, my chest pressed into his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him, my body enfolding his from behind.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I had no clue what to say to him, or if talking about it would even make it better, but I felt helpless, and I hated standing by and doing nothing while Noah suffered. I’d fed him and he’d attacked the food like a starving man. Now he looked ready to collapse from exhaustion, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to let him sleep or fix it with sex or conversation.

“I never want to talk about it,” he croaked.

His body shuddered against mine, his chest jerking as I held on to him tighter, trying to give him whatever strength I had left, even when my body felt nearly drained.

“The weather was good . . .”

I stilled, the ache in Noah’s voice piercing my heart.

“Visibility was fine.”

I closed my eyes.

“It was a normal sortie. We were headed home. We were on the radio. I heard him on the radio.”

My hold on Noah tightened.

“And then that was it. He was gone.”

His body shuddered again and the first tears seeped from my eyes.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Noah whispered, his voice cracking.

“I know.”

“Seeing Dani today . . .” Noah’s voice trailed off as he reached for me, grasping my hand, his fingers squeezing mine.

“I was with her when they told her.”

We hadn’t talked much about what was going on around us, me so focused on taking care of Dani, Noah working so hard to take care of the squadron and get everyone home.

Noah let out an oath, moving out of my arms to sit next to me on the bed. He cupped my face in his hand, his gaze locked on mine, and I swallowed, more wetness dripping down my cheeks. I’d tried so hard to keep a tight lid on my emotions, to keep him from worrying, to keep it all together somehow. But I couldn’t. Not now.

“I’m so sorry,” Noah whispered, his voice rough, his lips soft as he kissed my tears away. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” I choked on the words, a basketball-sized lump in my throat. “So much. I woke up and Meg called me and told me to check the news and I saw that an F-16 had crashed.” I couldn’t say the rest of it. It was too much, too close to the fears I lived with each time he flew to even give a voice to them.

But he knew without me even saying anything.

“I don’t . . .” He swallowed. “Looking at Dani, imagining you . . .”

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his, our lips inches apart, breathing the same breath.

“I want to get married. I want to go to Korea with you.”

None of this was going down the way I’d imagined it. But from the beginning, that was how we’d been with each other. Everything had been unexpected. And so, in a weird way, it sort of felt right. Whatever I’d thought of romance, the reality of it, was something else entirely.

It wasn’t the splashy, Valentine’s Day, jewelry commercial moments. It wasn’t anniversaries or holidays—hell, he’d probably miss his fair share of those anyway. No, now I understood that romance was taking the moments you had—those little, precious, too-short moments—and stringing them together and clutching them to your chest as though you’d always cherish them, and never let go.

Romance, love, whatever you wanted to call it, was the faint smell of jet fuel when he came home from work. It was lying in bed at night, feet tangled, watching TV. It was the smile that took over my face every single time I saw him, as if the sight of him, the mere existence of him, was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It was holding hands, the way he always said “I love you” back, even when he was sleeping, even when it was a nearly unintelligible mumble. It was sitting with your phone clutched in your hand, feeling like your entire world existed in him. It was terrifying and amazing, and it was the kind of chance you hitched your future to. Even without a net waiting for you.

“You want to get married?”

I nodded.

“And move to Korea?”

I nodded again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

I hated that it had come to this, that my memory of deciding to marry him would always be tied to this horrible, horrible tragedy, but maybe this was the best way we could honor those we’d loved and lost. By living our lives to the fullest. By living our lives for love.

“After what happened . . .” Noah’s voice trailed off and then he seemed to gather himself. “I understand if it’s too much. I don’t want to ask you to give up everything, don’t want you to ever be in the position Dani’s in.” His voice trembled. “I love you so much, Jordan. I want to spend my life with you. But I don’t want you to give up your life for me.

“I can’t give you normal. I can’t promise that I’ll be there for every holiday or anniversary. Hell, I probably can promise that I’ll miss Christmases, and birthdays, and so many times when you’ll need me and I won’t be able to be there. We might get a good assignment after Korea; we might get a shitty one. I wish I could promise you that this will be easy, that there won’t be days that you might regret marrying me. I wish I could promise you that I’ll come home to you every day. I can’t.