Breaking Sky(65)

“What about your personality?” She kept twisting to get a better look at him. “You’re acting like being gay is a bombshell that should blow the top off my skull. News flash, Pip. I know. I’ve known for years.”

Now he looked like he’d been hit by an explosive. His eyebrows were high, and his mouth was in a small O. “How do you know?”

“Intuition. Or something. And I never said anything because I could tell you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought you’d talk when you were ready.” She waited, but he was still too quiet. “I don’t think anyone else knows. Keep it to yourself for as long as you want.”

“Of course everyone knows, Chase. People tend to pay attention to that sort of thing. And everyone can tell I have a crush on him. It makes me nauseated.”

“Well, I can’t tell. Who are you talking about?”

“You can’t tell because you live in the Nyx Show.” His tone was more hurt than mean, but she still stung from it.

“Hey. I’m trying here.”

“Don’t get upset. Remember, I’m not allowed to ask about your dad. Or your childhood. Or your mom. Or why you act like you have to prove you’re the most unique, untouchable pilot at the Star every single hop.” The breeze picked up and blew them off course a little.

“You respect my privacy and I respect yours.” It had seemed so natural up until this moment. “That’s what best friends do.”

“That’s what walled-off people do. I swear that’s the only real thing you and I have in common,” he said.

“So what are you afraid of? Be gay. This isn’t some turn-of-the-century homophobic military. Kale wouldn’t even care.” She tried to face him, but her harness was too tight—she was breathing too hard.

“I’m not afraid. Or ashamed,” Pippin said. “I’m just not ready, and I was fine, dealing with it in my own way, until he showed up with his flirting and touching me all the time.”

Now that couldn’t be Tristan. He hadn’t flirted with Pippin. She was certain of that—which left only one other new person at the Star. “You have a crush on Romeo? But he’s so…”

“Straight?”

“I was going to say boob-happy, but yeah.” She tried to add it all up. “Well. Shit. Pippin, that’s the real problem.”

“Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because I’m embarrassed. I’m smarter than this.” They were quiet long enough for Chase to listen to the wind again. When Pippin spoke again, he sounded soft and yet sure of himself. “He’s from Quebec City. He speaks French without an English accent even though it’s not his first language. Do you know how rare that is?” He continued in a rush. “He’s a thoughtless flirt, but he’s a decent guy underneath, I swear. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. I know you think he’s an idiot.”

They were slowing down, the parachute breaking their fall.

“He’s a lot sweeter in French.” Pippin blew out a breath that was so much more than a sigh. “And while we’re airing things out, Tristan Router is in love with you. Bravo Zulu. You’re going to need a bigger basket for all those stolen hearts.”

Chase held her hand over the edge. The ground never seemed so distant as when she reached for it. “How can you tell…that?”

“You guys are like magnets whenever you come into the same room. You fly like you’re making out, which is really awkward for Romeo and me. Thanks for that. And when I thought you were brain-dead on the hangar floor after the drone incident, Tristan held on to me. Like he was as scared as I was, which was pretty damn scared.”

All of a sudden, love wasn’t so pointless. It was sharp when she pictured Tristan and Pippin…when she imagined frightening them. Sharp. It made her want to withdraw to her protected, unemotional place, but now she had no clue how to get there.

She was stranded in caring. Christ.

A few seconds later, they landed hard in a muddy patch of field. Chase unstrapped, offering Pippin a hand up. “You’re my best friend,” she said. “With everything that’s about to happen, I need you on my team.”

He looked at her hand. “I’m always on your team. Whether I like it or not.”

“Let me help you.”

He took her hand to get up, but his words were beaten down. “Help me do what? Fall out of love with a straight boy? How does one do that exactly?”

“According to you, moving on from people is my forte.”

They picked their way through the mud before Pippin spoke. “True. But, Chase, you don’t even care about them in the first place.” His words burned while his shoulder bumped hers in a forced friendly way.

She wanted to point out that he was wrong. She cared. She cared about everything so much that she often felt exposed. Falling. Grasping at the sky. That’s why she needed the speed. It made the very air something she could hold on to.

“I’m sorry,” he added, and she couldn’t tell if he meant for everything or this latest insult.

“Sure.” She swallowed it regardless. “I’m sorry too.”





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