Page 59 of Aviator
“That’s good news,” I say against the skin of her neck.
“The best,” she answers.
To Cal and Ford, I say, “I guess this means Jamie wasn’t making up that something had gone down with Tate.”
They both shake their head. Ford says, “Good luck finding him, though.”
“Project Sentinel,” Kenna shouts suddenly.
“You okay, babe?” I say.
“That was on the mirror at Jamie’s cabin. I tried to tell you, but you bit my head off, remember? Does that mean anything to you guys?”
Ford and Cal share a look. “Isn’t that what was on that stuff in the box Tate sent you?” Cal asks Ford.
“Box?” I ask.
“Yeah. Tate’s mom sent Ford a box of memorabilia and shit, memory cards.” Cal takes out his phone and pulls up an image of an old box full of papers and odds and ends. “One of them was labeled Project Sentinel.”
“Do you think that has something to do with why they went missing?” Kenna asks.
“Worth checking out,” I tell her.
She spins in my lap, throwing her legs over mine and cupping my cheeks. “Well, can we look at it? Maybe it has something to do with where they’re going.”
“Is this how we look?” Ford asks Cal, and I flip them off.
“Of course we can. It’s about time we figured what the hell happened back then and finally put Tate’s ghost to rest. Besides, we still have to find your sister.”
Cal makes gagging sounds.
“What about the girls?” she asks.
“They can stay with Riley and Gramps here for a few hours, right?”
“Where did you keep everything?” Kenna says to Ford and Cal, her eyes sparkling with determination.
I kiss her shoulder, feeling for the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten back part of what I lost before. My brothers. My girl. A future.
A future almost as bright as her sunshine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
A FEW DAYS EARLIER, THUNDERHEAD MOUNTAIN, NC
“I can’t believeI trusted you!”
The scream wouldn’t be so harrowing if it hadn’t come from the mouth of the woman I love. “You can trust me, darlin’.”
“I should have shot you when I had the chance. This is going too far. You’re crazy. You’re a lunatic. This can’t be real. For goodness’ sake.”
“We just need to lay low for a couple of weeks, and then we’ll sort this out.”
“I mean it,” she shouts when I try the bathroom door again. “Stay away from me, or I’ll. . . I’ll beat your brains in.”
I’d kiss her if I wasn’t certain she’d bite my tongue off if I tried. “If you’ll calm down, we can talk about this all normal-like.” She’s not normally this spicy, and I have to say, I’m enjoyin’ this whole other side to her.
“I don’t want to talk about shit, you psycho. I want you to let me go so I can see my psychiatrist for a new prescription. Apparently, I also need antipsychotics in addition to my anxiety and depression medication.”
