Page 60 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
“The lady would like some caviar.”
“Caviar?” The air-steward’s gaze flicks to mine, and the look he reserves for me is a lot less gooey. He has the faintest whiff of omega about him; omega who’s taken a hell of a lot of blockers in order to land a job like this. I can’t help a tang of jealousy. Does Hunter like his scent? Does he like it more than mine? “I don’t think we have any–”
“I’m sure you can find some for this very special lady.” Hunter takes my hand in his and laces his fingers through mine.
“Special lady?” I say as the steward hurries away with a slight look of panic now sketched across his perfectly made-up face.
“What would you have me call you?”
“Now that is a loaded question. But lady? I’m not sure anyone has ever called me a lady before.”
He brings our hands to his mouth and kisses my knuckles, staring into my eyes and saying, “That is criminal.”
And if there weren’t five other people sitting in first class with us, including the band’s bodyguard, Mick, I’d be crawling over the armrests and joining him in his seat.
Hunter hooks an arm around my shoulder. “You want to watch a movie together, or try to sleep? It’s a long, old flight.”
Neither. What I’d like to do is completely unholy. Layla and Ruby were happy to share their tales of joining the mile-high club with me the other night and I’m almost disappointed Hunter cares so much about the environment because I wouldn’t mind joining that club.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep. I’m too excited.”
“Excited? About a flight?”
“I’ve only flown two other times. Not all of us are international jet-setters here, you know.”
He scratches his thumbnail down the material of his jeans, his eyes flicking from side to side as if he’s thinking.
“Isabella?”
“Yes.” I say, playing with the other buttons on my arm rest, my feet extending out in front of me.
“What’s the money for?”
I halt. My thumb hovering over the next button, my feet hanging in the air.
“Oh that.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I feel like we know each other well enough now and if you’re in some kind of trouble or … I want to help.”
I tilt my head back against the headrest and inhale, my heart stilling and my skin chilly. The aircon is too strong and it gushes against my forehead. I wish I hadn’t locked my cardigan in the over-head locker.
“You don’t have to tell me–” he repeats.
“I should have told you.” I chew on my cheek. “It’s just … it hurts to talk about it and it always makes me sad and then it makes everyone around me sad. And then they don’t want to talk to me or hang out with me anymore.”
“I’m the most depressive person to be around on the entire planet, according to West. You’re safe with me.”
I smile and twist my head to look at me. He’s right. I trust Hunter. So many people catch that whiff of death, of loss, and they run in the opposite direction. He isn’t like that. He’s made of more solid stuff.
“My little sister died last year. Of leukemia.”
His eyes say it all, even though not a muscle in his face moves; his eyes tell me. How sorry he is, how heartbroken he is for me. Water skims in my vision.
“We had a bit of health cover from my mom’s work. But it wasn’t enough. We had to find extra money. And she just kept getting sicker and sicker. Towards the end, we tried everything for her. The newest, experimental treatments. She was so young and we wanted more time with her.” He nods, squeezing my hand. I hadn’t realized he was still holding it. “People were really generous. We did a big fundraiser, but we were still short. We did everything we could to get our hands on the money. My grandma sold all her treasured records. My mom sold her wedding ring and we took out any loan we could find. We’re in a lot of debt,” I say, “but it was worth it. It was worth it just to have those few more months with her.”
“What was her name, Cupcake?”
“Maria,” I whisper, the name scratching my throat as it leaves my mouth.
