Page 74 of Over & Out

“Then what is it?” I blurt out. The words tumble out before I can stop them. In that sad, desperate tone too. I want to reach out and grab them all back.

Tru’s lips purse, then soften again. For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me. That suddenly, all will be revealed. But, of course, she doesn’t. She just shakes her head. “I’m sorry, honey. Only he can be the one to tell you that.”

I button it up then. All the feelings, all the pain. Because he’s made it clear he won’t talk, and I’m not about to go chasing him down to make him.

We move on to more job-related things. But as the minutes pass, I watch Tru seem to wilt in real-time. She’s exhausted, so I wrap it up.

“Thank you,” I say to her. “For talking to me even though you should be resting.”

I get up, arranging the chair back against the wall. “I’m sorry I let you down by letting things get to this point with Hopper, but I promise I’m good to do my job. We have a system, and it’s working.”

Regardless of the agony behind the scenes, I’m not lying. I can do my job perfectly well, feelings or no feelings.

“I’ll go find out where your baby went,” I say.

She nods. But just as I reach the door, she says, “Chris?”

I turn, hand on the doorframe.

“I don’t disapprove of the two of you, by the way. Even if it’s against the rules, I haven’t seen his eyes look like that since before his mom passed.”

I swallow. I can’t help myself. “How do they look?”

“Like he has hope again. Like there’s good in the world.” She settles back against the pillows with a sigh. “He looks at you like he’s looking at a painting, Chris. Or a goddess. And like he wants to eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Chapter 24

Chris

We don’t spend the night in LA. Instead, we head back to the airport. The airplane is right where we left it. Turns out it was cheaper to hang on to it for seventy-two hours than charter it twice. Unfortunately, the flight attendant isn’t available for the return trip, and it’ll take an hour or more to get a replacement.

“The flight’s only three hours,” Hopper tells me, “and I plan on sleeping the whole time.”

Good. That’s good. Then I won’t have to deal with any of this for a little while longer. Because after what Tru told me, I’m this close to jumping on the man and throttling him. Regardless of what Tru said, he’s still pushing me away. I have no idea what to do with any of it.

Hopper sits beside me without saying a word, and as the plane takes off, he once again takes my hand. Apparently it doesn’t matter to him that we’re not talking to each other. He still wants to makesure I feel safe, and that feels so good it almost hurts.

Hopper doesn’t fall asleep right away. Once we’re level, he pulls out that little notebook again and scribbles something in it. I can’t help but glance over, curiosity getting the better of me. Not to see if I can read it, but to see if I can tell what it is. A journal? A list of grievances? Recipes? I can’t tell, but it looks like there are a bunch of pages torn out of it in the front.

Hopper snaps the notebook closed. I look quickly out the window, pulse thrumming. To my left, which is east, I can see the sky beginning to lighten. I’ve been awake almost twenty-four hours, and the exhaustion suddenly hits me like a tidal wave. I stifle a yawn with my fist.

“You can take the bed,” Hopper tells me.

“There’s a bed?” I ask and immediately regret it. Of course there’s a bedroom on a plane like this.

Hopper doesn’t bother making fun of me about it. “It’s only a double, but it’s the door at the back. Go nuts.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “You can have it.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Impossible,” he yawns. “G’night.” He folds his arms, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. There’s a decent recline on the chair—I could probably sleep here too. But I won’t do it next to him. I can’t.

I get up, heading for the chair across the aisle. But I don’t sit. I glance back at Hopper, who’s already breathing deeply. I want to see the bedroom, not that I’m going to use it. I don’t know why I’m being stubborn about it, but it feels weird taking it.

I push open the door at the back of the plane. It’s very nice, if a little masculine: all glossy wood and plush, smoky gray bedding.

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