Page 18 of Fly Back to Me
“Not me,” he clarifies, offering the carton to me. “From someone who couldn’t live without thanking you.”
My eyes hold his amid the night, silently asking him to explain further. There’s an optimism knitted in his gaze—a buoyancy I failed to notice before. And it only takes another beat to answer my own question.
Her.
The gift is fromher.
My throat bobs, my gaze volleying between Peter and the box. “She came to you with this?” I ask.
“Yes. And she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Demanded to meet with me and even stood up from her chair to defend her case.”
A breathy laugh escapes me, my head turning as I surf a hand through my damp hair. “Is that right?”
I guess she’s feisty.
“I’m afraid so.”
I sigh, returning my attention to the white box before cautiously reaching for it. “So, what’s in it?”
He meets me halfway, planting the package in my open palm. “Something tells me she didn’t go through all this trouble for me to spoil it.”
Confusion crashes into me when the light mass of the box registers in my hand. “Thank you,” I simply say.
“You have a good night, Mr. Owens.”
My head flicks up, nodding once to acknowledge his departure. “You too, officer.”
I stand in the threshold of the doorway for a few quiet moments. The only sound that reverberates around me is the bustling of leaves dancing along the grass. My eyes remain attached to the box nestled in my palm, but the brisk breeze startles my skin.
My feet gradually retreat inside before I swing the front door shut. I walk the narrow hallway to the kitchen, a million different versions of her encounter with Officer Bellmont playing in my head. There’s this foreign excitement inside of me—dormant, but ready to take off any minute.
I rest the cardboard on the reclaimed barn wood of the eat-in kitchen table. The dim glow of the light fixture bounces off the top of the box—an inevitable spotlight on whatever this is.
My thoughts race round and round, knowing this faceless woman touched this package and its contents.
Wild.
My stomach recoils, but even so, I reach out to lift the top flap. I retrieve the folded piece of paper inside only to uncover a pair of stainless-steel wings.
Mystainless-steel wings.
She had it the whole time.
I scoop the jewelry up, the hands of the clock rewinding to that fateful night. The flashbacks are muted in the background, and I smirk as I loop the cool metal around my right middle finger. Slipping it down to its original place, I’m somehow graced with a new perception.
When I initially received this ring, it represented the start of something new when I’d left my partnership with Mike. Maybe now it’s just a quaint reminder to live life to the fullest and chase every wild dream.
I can accept that.
I drop my right hand, finally opening the note with my left.
I respect the fact that you’d like to keep your privacy, and I promise this is the first and last time you’ll hear from me. As much as I would love to return this ring in person and meet the man who saved my life, I’ll happily sit for hours trying to write the perfect letter that expresses everything I want to say to you.
You gave me wings to escape a situation that could have turned my world upside down, and for some reason unknown to you, you felt like my life was worth saving. That I was worth saving.
In the end, you didn’t just give me wings that night. You gave me wings to soar high in this life and reach for the stars. I don’t know who you are and what you’re like, but there is one thing I know without a shadow of a doubt.
This world needs you.
