Page 16 of Aviator
Because I know it’ll make her irritable, I take my phone out and check my email and bank account. Sure enough, there’s a message from Lawrence confirming payment, and the corresponding bank draft is scheduled for deposit pending the two-day waiting period. The fear I’d been holding onto that I wouldn’t be able to pay for Gramps’ physical therapy dissipates, and I release a pent-up breath.
I may not like it, but this payday is going to save my ass.
I guess now it’s my turn to save hers.
“Guess you can put your money where your mouth is. Let’s get goin’.”
Without waiting for her to answer, I turn with a final wave at Margaret and Gramps and head out to my truck. Kenna’s rental will stay here until she gets back.
The drive to the airport is a silent one. The flurries make it difficult to see the road, and Kenna’s focused on her phone, presumably checking to see if there are any updates from her sister. In between watching the road and navigating through the weather, I’m focused on watching her, even though I don’t want to be. The way her brow furrows in concentration, the way she bites her bottom lip, the way her hair falls across her face and sticks to her cheeks from melting snow on her skin. My fists tighten around the steering wheel, and I force myself to focus on the road ahead.
She’s nothing to me. A paycheck. A means to an end. There’s no room in my life for a stubborn-ass woman who lights up the world around her like she’s a gift from God. Maybe if I were another man, I’d be at her feet, begging her to share a bit of that sunshine with me, but I’m not. No amount of sunshine could melt the jagged shards of ice where my heart used to be.
We finally arrive at the airport, and I cut the engine. Despite the cold, Kenna is out of the truck in a shot, shouldering her backpack and looking to me for direction. I nod to the nearest hangar, where the R44 is already waiting outside, thanks to Lawrence. I spot him standing outside the main office with a couple other guys I don’t recognize. He lifts a hand in greeting, and I do the same.
Kenna hesitates as we approach the R44, her gaze sweeping over its powerful frame. My hand brushes against the helicopter’s side. “This is it,” I say with a hint of challenge as I open the door. “You ready? You can always turn around and go home until it’s safe enough to drive up there.”
She flashes me a determined grin that I feel like a punch to the gut. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You aren’t going to get rid of me that easily. Stop trying to get me to change my mind because I won’t. You’re stuck with me for the day, Dean Tyler, so you may as well start getting used to it.”
I grumble under my breath as I follow her up into the aircraft. I go through my pre-flight procedure, ignoring her until my heart rate goes back to normal. Her smile does strange things to me. Things I’d rather not examine. Must be annoyance. I decide as I give her a headset for ear protection. Annoyance is absolutely the emotion I feel. No one should smile as much as this woman does. It’s unnatural. And she doesn’t look cute with the oversized headset on. She looks ridiculous.
Scowling once again, I help her get buckled into her seat, make sure her belt is snug, and double-check all of our gear to verify all are accounted for and secure for flight. Finally, I take my own seat and get ready for takeoff.
The engine roars to life beneath us, and Kenna smiles as we lift into the air. Her squeal of delight fills my ears as we gain altitude. The land beneath us shrinks steadily, and she gasps, fairly pressing her nose against the window beside her to see the landscape of snow-blanketed fields, trees, and roads below.
“It looks like a painting,” she says, still studying the view below. “Wow. This is incredible.”
I catch myself watching her again, grateful she’s too distracted by the view to pay any attention to me. Catching myself, I focus on navigating to our destination, keeping a watchful eye on the weather. It’s worse than I anticipated, though I don’t relay that information to Kenna. As long as we get there, don’t waste a shit ton of time, and leave relatively quickly, we should be fine. She won’t like me rushing her, but I can guarantee she won’t like being stuck in a snowstorm even more.
“How long have you been flying?” she asks when we’ve been in the air for about a half hour. Her voice is smooth and sweet through the forced intimacy of the headsets like she’s speaking directly into my ear. Gooseflesh peppers my skin, and my fists clench.
“Let’s not,” I say without looking at her.
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re not friends. You don’t have to make small talk.” I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep my gaze on the skyline. There’s a lengthy pause while she grapples with how to respond to my bluntness. But it’s better this way, keeping a distance. Better for me and for her. Opening yourself up to someone only opens you up to pain.
Isn’t that what love is? Sure, the beginning is great. Hell, the middle is arguably better. But every story has an ending. . . and they aren’t always happy.
“Right,” she says, and I can practically hear the hurt feelings in her voice. A woman like her, who’s nice to everyone, takes care of her family like she does, and fuck, tracks down her missing sister, couldn’t fathom being intentionally rude to another person. Even now, with me being a dick, she says, “Sorry, you’re right. You should focus.”
My thoughts rival the swirling, gray scenery around us as we continue on in silence, the loud drumbeat of the engine and rotor blades the only sound. Being forced to relive thoughts of Jamie and the others brings emotions better off long forgotten to the forefront. It hadn’t occurred to me until we were up in the air that I could find him dead, wherever he is. He wouldn’t be the first brother to take his own life. But the thought of losing someone else. . . my mood sours further, and I hope to God this is over quickly so I can stop feeling so fucking much.
As we approach the mountains, the storm grows more intense. The wind howls and buffets us around, making it difficult to maintain a steady course. Apprehension grows inside me the closer we get to Thunderhead Mountain, a location a hundred or so miles north of Crystal Mountain. My palms sweat on the controls, and I wipe them on my jeans, dismissing the nerves as nothing more than a desire to get home and away from this woman.
Suddenly, Kenna’s voice crackles through my headset, distracting me from my thoughts. “Dean, I think I see something. Over there, beyond those trees.”
I follow her gaze and strain my eyes against the blowing snow, searching for any sign of life. And then I see it, too. Jamie’s cabin. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but smoke might be coming from the chimney through the bare branches of the American beech, yellow birch, and maple trees. We found it sooner than I thought, despite the terrible visibility from the snowstorm.
I should be relieved and looking forward to wrapping this up so quickly, but an unease slides up my spine that has me scanning the visible surroundings, but I don’t see anything to explain the feeling. Kenna doesn’t notice because she squeals in relief, and I don’t bring it up. It’s probably nothing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KENNA
The bitingwinter wind howls through the snowstorm, whipping stinging shards against our faces as we make our way toward the cabin. Each step is a struggle, the snow nearly reaching our knees, but I’m not deterred, even if the sheer amount of snow is awe-inspiring. My heart races with anticipation and anxiety, the urgency to find Kady propelling me forward. She has to be here. I just know I’m going to run up to the door, fling it open, and she’ll be there with a ready giggle and a damn good explanation. Then I’ll strangle Jamie, and we’ll all have a good laugh about what a great misunderstanding this all was.
Silly Kenna, always overreacting, she’d say.You worry too much.
