Page 69 of Over & Out

But when I sneak another look, I’m surprised to see Chris has tucked her laptop away. Her eyes are closed, face in a grimace. Even from here I can see her knuckles are white on her armrest.

“Are you okay?” I ask stupidly. She’s very clearly not okay.

“Fine,” she bites out.

“You’re scared of flying,” I say, finally understanding. It took me long enough because Chris doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who’s scared of anything. She was an amateur dirt bike champion. She used to enjoy skydiving on her days off from the restaurant and the outdoor shop she used to work at.

Yeah, I read the backgrounder I refused to look at in the beginning. Several times.

“It’s just this part,” she squeaks out.

I glance up to the galley. The flight attendant is reading an e-book. She yawns as her body rattles in her seat.

I open my seat belt carefully, so as not to make a noise. Not that she’d hear me over the roar of the engine. It takes some effort to move against the propulsion of the speeding plane, but I land in the seat next to Chris a moment later.

Her eyes fly open. “Hopper, what the fuck?”

“Don’t worry,” I whisper, clicking my seat belt on. “Safety first.”

I reach over and take her hand in mine just as the plane reaches maximum speed.

Chris grips my hand so tight I’m surprised I don’t hear the snap of bone. She grimaces as our spines compress into the seats during liftoff. For a moment, things are smooth—that glorious lack of friction right after the wheels leave the ground. Then there’s a bump. Chris yelps. Another.

I squeeze her hand. “I’ve got you.”

Now that we’re in the middle of it, I remember vaguely the pilot mentioning it would be a bit bumpy on the ascent. I was too worked up to really hear. Or care. Flying’s second nature to me. Not for Chris.

“When’s the first time you rode in an airplane?” I ask her.

“Three years ago.”

“Where did you go?”

“Mexico. With L-Lana and her girls.”

“Tell me about it. The trip, I mean.”

“It was before she met Raph.”Bump.“She was a single mom, and I suggested she get away. I didn’t think she’d insist I go with her.” Chris grits her teeth as we rattle around for a minute. “The girls were so excited—and then on the plane, Nova was so scared, but so was I, and Lana”—she laughs kind of wryly, which is great; it means the distraction is working—“she ended up having to take care of three babies that flight.”

“So you admit you’re a big baby,” I say.

Chris looks up at me and tries to glare. But another bump rocks us, and I see the fear. Her eyes are too wide to hide it.

“Hey,” I say. “You’re the farthest thing from a baby, okay? Trust me, I’ve got that on lock. Who’s the one who had an outburst in the hangar?”

“You, obviously,” she says with a wobbly smile.

The plane bumps again and she squeaks.

That’s it. I lift up the armrest between us and pull her into my arms. I was thinking only about what would feel safest to Chris. But it feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. Her body relaxes into mine, and for a moment, I feel like everything is gone—all the pain, all the worry, all the petty problems of the world. All I feel is Chris’s softness. Her hand tight in mine; so small but so strong. And I’m flooded with her sweet floral shampoo scent.

I’m not proud to admit it, but I say a little prayer the turbulence continues, just for a little longer.

It doesn’t last, of course. Not the turbulence and not the closeness with Chris, either. The flight attendant steps out five minutes later and hands me a phone, her eyes narrowed when she sees I moved.

Chris pulls away as if it’s her fault.

I take the phone. “Yeah.”

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