Page 5 of Revere
“Giving in to the fear means they can use it against you, Patience. Don’t let them.”My brother’s mantra plays on repeat.
He offered plenty of fucked-up advice growing up, and that was simply another piece. I suppose it was helpful at times whengetting throughwas the only objective. His advice helped moreoften than not. But I also recognize that the things he said aren’t things that most people need to get through life.
We had it different.
The plane dips again, and even clenched teeth don’t bury the squeak this time.
“You know what helps me?” Jacob’s voice is muted through the blood coursing between my temples, so it takes me a moment to realize who he’s talking to.
I glance in his direction and find his green eyes fixed on mine. Unlike me, he’s the picture of relaxed. At some point, he stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, showing off every beautiful inch of his corded forearms.
This man is obnoxiously attractive.
“You’re scared of flying?” I hitch an eyebrow.
“No.” He grazes the back of his hand with his thumb. “But everyone hassomethingthat bothers them. Distractions help.”
Something about the emphasis he puts onsomethinghas my neck prickling. Is there anything that could rattle this man? I find that hard to believe.
“I’m fine.”
The plane dips again, and my back stiffens as my eyes screw shut.
“You sure about that?” His tone sounds almost mocking.
But when I peel my eyes open, I’m not met with anything more than indifference on his face. I shouldn’t be surprised. If anything, he’s probably wondering how he got stuck next to the college girl who is terrified of planes.
“You want to distract me?” I humor him. “What could possibly make me forget I’m currently sitting in a death trap forty-five thousand feet in the air? And don’t start with the lecture about how planes are safer than cars. I’ve heard that plenty, and it’s pointless.”
“Would facts about turtles be more interesting to you?”
My eyebrows scrunch. “Turtles?”
His gaze drops to my wrist, where a simple silver chain has a turtle charm dangling from it. “I’m assuming you like them.”
“Oh.” I fumble with my bracelet. “My brother gave this to me.”
“Does he like turtles?”
“It’s symbolic.” I twist my bracelet to hide the turtle.
Thankfully, he seems to take the hint. Or he’s bored and doesn’t care. He’s probably wondering how he’s roped himself into this conversation with some young girl when I’m sure he has an endless number of beautiful women his age who would happily give him their attention.
I settle back against my seat, grabbing the tip of my blonde ponytail and running my fingers through it as I smooth it in front of one of my shoulders. The plane jolts again, and my hands fly to the armrests.
“No turtles then.” Jacob rests his head back, clearly not dropping the conversation like I thought. “What about the average number of times a person walks past a murder in their lifetime without knowing about it?”
“If they don’t know about it, how could they come up with an average?” I challenge him.
He chuckles. “Average murders versus traffic in a given area.”
“Not all murders are hidden. Some are in plain sight. And how far from the dead body does the person have to be for it to be consideredwalking by?”
His eyebrow lifts. “I didn’t expect you to be so interested in murder.”
“Maybe I’m just interested in numbers. Statistics? Or maybe I’m just challenging your point because I don’t see how any average would be reliable given all the variables.” I shift in myseat, catching myself rambling again. “Besides, you’re the one who brought up murder on a plane ride; you have no room to judge.”
“I’m not judging.”
