Ugly Love(63)

“Hello?”
“Tate!” my mother says. “Oh, my God, Tate.”
Her voice is panicked, which immediately causes me to panic. “What is it?”
“A plane. A plane crashed about half an hour ago, and I can’t get through to the airline. Have you talked to your brother?”
My knees meet the floor. “Are you sure it was his airline?” I ask her. My voice sounds so terrified I don’t even recognize it. It sounds as terrified as hers did the last time this happened.
I was only six, but I remember every single detail as if it happened yesterday, down to the moon-and-star pajamas I was wearing. My father was on a domestic flight, and we had turned on the news right after dinner and saw that one of the planes had gone down due to engine failure. Everyone on board was killed. I remember watching my mother on the phone with the airline, hysterical, trying to find out information on who the pilot was. We found out it wasn’t him within the hour, but that hour was one of the scariest of our lives.
Until now.
I rush to my room and grab my cell phone off my nightstand and immediately dial his number. “Have you tried calling him?” I ask my mother as I make my way back to the living room. I try to make it to the couch, but for some reason, the floor seems more comforting. I kneel down again, almost as if I’m in prayer mode.
I guess I am.
“Yes, I’ve been calling his phone nonstop. It’s just going to voice mail.”
It’s a stupid question. Of course, she’s tried calling him. I try again anyway, but his phone goes directly to voice mail.
I try to reassure her, but I know it’s pointless. Until we hear his voice, reassurance won’t help. “I’ll call the airline,” I tell her. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”
She doesn’t even say good-bye.
I use the home phone to call the airline and my cell phone to call Miles. It’s the first time I’ve ever dialed his number.
I pray that he answers, because as much as I’m scared to death for Corbin, it’s also running through my head that Miles works for the same airline.
My stomach is sick.
“Hello?” Miles says on the second ring. His voice sounds hesitant, like he’s unsure why I’m calling.
“Miles!” I say, both frantic and relieved. “Is he okay? Is Corbin okay?”
There’s a pause.
Why is there a pause?
“What do you mean?”
“A plane,” I say immediately. “My mom called. There was a plane crash. He’s not answering his phone.”
“Where are you?” he says quickly.
“The apartment.”
“Let me in.”
I walk to the door and unlock it. He pushes the door open and still has the phone to his ear. When he sees me, he pulls the phone away, immediately rushes to the couch, grabs the remote, and turns on the television.
He flips through the channels until he finds the TV news report. He dials numbers on his cell phone, then turns and rushes toward me. He takes my hand in his. “Come here,” he says, pulling me to him. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
I nod against his chest, but his reassurance is pointless.
“Gary?” he says when someone answers on the other end. “It’s Miles. Yeah. Yeah, I heard,” he says. “Who was the crew?”
There’s a long pause. I’m terrified to look at him. Terrified.
“Thank you.” He hangs up the phone. “He’s okay, Tate,” he says immediately. “Corbin’s fine. Ian, too.”
I break down into tears of relief.
Miles walks me to the couch and sits down, then pulls me to him. He takes my cell phone out of my hands and presses several buttons before putting the phone to his ear.
“Hey, it’s Miles. Corbin is fine.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Yeah, she’s fine. I’ll tell her to call you in the morning.” A few more seconds pass, and he says good-bye. He sets the phone on the couch beside him. “Your mom.”
I nod. I already knew.
And that simple gesture, him calling my mother, just made me fall for him even harder.
Now he’s kissing the top of my head, rubbing his hand up and down my arm reassuringly.
“Thank you, Miles,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say you’re welcome, because he doesn’t think he did anything that deserves thanking.
“Did you know them?” I ask. “The crew on board?”
“No. They were out of a different hub. The names didn’t sound familiar.”
My phone vibrates, so Miles hands it back to me. I look at it, and it’s a text from Corbin.
Corbin: In case you’ve heard about the plane, just want you to know I’m fine. I called headquarters, and Miles is, too. Please let Mom know if she hears about it. Love you.
Receiving his text fills me with even more relief, now that I know with one hundred percent certainty that he’s okay.
“It’s a text from Corbin,” I tell Miles. “He says you’re okay. In case you were worried.”
Miles laughs. “So he checked up on me?” he says with a grin. “I knew he couldn’t hate me forever.”
I smile. I love that Corbin wanted me to know that Miles was okay.
Miles continues to hold me, and I savor every second of it.
“When is he scheduled to come home?”
“Not for two more days,” I say. “How long have you been home?”
“About two minutes,” he says. “I had just plugged my phone in to charge when you called.”
“I’m glad you’re back.”