Page 65 of The Garnet Daughter
I press the first button, and even though I know where the other one is now, he still guides my hand, holding it by my wrist and only letting go when the second landing gear button is pushed.
“This is a lot to remember.”
“After a while, it becomes muscle memory. Your body knows what to do, what feels off.”
A mechanical crunching sound begins as the landing gear shuts itself into the belly of the ship. “What was that?”
“Normal.”
“Sounded different.”
“It didn’t.” He chuckles. “You are doing perfectly fine. Lift a little more.”
“We are going higher?” I panic and look out at the landscape in front of us, but nothing seems to have changed other than the spot August launched the drones from no longer being visible.
“We are barely off the ground.”
We ascend higher, the controls becoming a little harder to hold steady when I know we are just hanging in the air. I try not to shift on my feet, using muscles that aren’t necessary for the task, but I am so stiff I can’t stop.
August praises how well I am doing again, coaxing me to relax in a soft voice. The tenderness in his tone should ease my nerves, but instead it forces my spine straighter, a desperate attempt to not be distracted by it.
“Alright, let’s descend,” he finally says and leans forward to switch something to my left. “Go ahead and press the landing gear, better to have that out early.”
I push the buttons more confidently this time, solid ground calling me back.
“Mmm, good job.” He hums.
Suddenly, I’m grateful I am facing away from him, the flush I’m positive is on my cheeks hidden from his view at the tiny bit of praise. It’s nice to be in control of the ship. It is even nicer that he believes I am doing well.
“Fingers on top of that bar now, slow and steady, and push down. I will keep us level.”
I glance back, a little nervous again. I can feel how high we are, at least as tall as a Frithian tree. “Maybe you should take over.”
He is focused on his own controls. “Eyes forward.”
I press down a little too hard and he hisses, reminding me to go slow. I am not paying attention to any other button or out the windows the entire time, just focusing on the gradual pressure I am putting on this thing.
The wind around the ship kicks up as we get close to the ground, and a loud noise ripples through the entire floor. I jump when the landing gear makes an even louder sound and lose my composure. The added pressure makes the ship slam downward so hard on the sand, I tumble backward into August.
He catches me, cradling me in his lap as he leans forward and quickly presses the buttons I was likely supposed to, to finish the landing.
My heart is beating so fast, certain I’ve ruined something, but he is calm and unfazed, working on the command station with one hand and holding my hip firmly with the other.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He grins on one side as he works, glancing at me for a fast moment. “Don’t be.” He exhales slowly like he fixed whatever I did and leans back in his chair.
“What was the noise?” I’m still a little too stunned to stand on sturdy legs.
“Landing gear.” He tilts his head to look at me with no intention of asking me to get off him.
“I don’t remember it being so loud.”
“You’re probably just more aware of everything.”
And he has no idea how right he is because I can feel every one of his fingers still placed on my hip, his strong hand splayed out and gripping me gently.
I shift a little because it is ridiculous to sit here in his lap any longer.
