The salty air from the water stung as I breathed. The voice in the simulator, warning of impending doom, echoed in my mind. I pounded my feet harder against the ground trying to shake the panic, the fear, the feeling of coldness that lingered in my veins. Was that how Colin felt? Did he know he was about to die? Was he frightened? Did it hurt?
I fell to my knees at the water’s edge panting. I picked up a handful of sand and tossed it into the ocean. Flying was our dream—together. It would never happen now.
My throat burned.
“We said we’d do this together,” I shouted, choking back a sob. “We said we’d do it together.” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling.
Something moved in the water and startled me. I stood up to get a better look, brushing the sand from my hands. It was probably just a dolphin. My heart raced as the sea creature broke through the water. It was a shark. A shark with blond hair, iced-blue eyes, and six-pack abs. A shark named Locke.
The water sparkled across his tan chiseled abs and he dragged his hand threw his thick blond hair. A familiar storm of rage, desire, and disgust brewed inside. I bit my lip and turned back to the house.
“Tinklee!” he called out.
I picked up my pace, hurrying up the stairs and inside. Why did he have to make me feel like this? Like I wanted to kiss him then punch him. It pissed me off that this was the reality of my life. The truth was simple—reality sucked ass.
Chapter 8
I tossed and turned as the crash flashed through my mind like lightning bolts. I rolled over and pulled a pillow over my head.
The familiar sting in the back of my eyes burned as the nightmares taunted me. I watched myself drift down the aisle behind the casket in the church with a twisted expression pulling at my face. A long line of people with extended hands and solemn stares drifted in and out of the haunted dreams as I knelt, sobbing at Colin’s grave wanting to join him. My shaky fingers traced along his scripted name on one of the many lined rows of tombstones at the Academy burial ground. The images, like the stone that marked Colin’s grave, were cold and hard. And just like that horrid day, I desperately prayed for an escape out of this suffocating hell.
I jerked up blinking rapidly and gasped for air as my pillow fell to the side. I buried my hands deep into my hair and squeezed my eyes shut.
I slammed my foot on the mattress as the back of my eyelids burned. That freaking episode in the simulator had brought back the nightmares. Avoiding the tears, I pushed off the bed and stared out the window. I knew none of this would be easy, but I didn’t expect it to make me feel so out of control.
I didn’t know how long I stood there but I was grateful when the sky began to warm and even more grateful for a shower. Steam filled the room as the scent of vanilla verbena filled the air while I lathered my hair. My scalp tingled and my lids felt heavy. Zombies were more alive than me.
A car door slammed, startling me.
A female laughed. The giggle was followed by Locke’s masculine chuckle. I shut off the water and wrapped a towel over me, swinging the curtain back so I could climb up to the window to eavesdrop. I hoisted myself up, gripping the edge of the sill with my fingertips.
I smeared the condensation from the window. My heart stopped. Locke stood beside a white Mercedes convertible, shirtless and barefooted, holding a mug of coffee. That was a freshly fucked smirk if I ever saw one. I bit my lip as heat traveled up my neck and spread to my ears.
A Megan Fox look-alike with morning-after hair and a snotty smile sat in the driver’s seat. He laughed again. What the hell was so funny? I wanted to pound on the window and interrupt, but I resisted.
I kicked the wall with a swift and powerful sweep. My other foot slipped. I dug my fingernails into the windowsill, but it did nothing. My arms flailed as I tried to catch my balance. I caught a hold of the shower rod above me just in time. Phew.
The metal rod buckled causing me to crash to the ground.
I lay flat on my back inside my bathtub. I closed my eyes wishing I had the ability to turn back time.
A magical ringtone interrupted my misery, but I didn’t have time to talk. She would leave a message if it were important. The voicemail alert blinked onto my screen and I rolled my eyes. I’d get to it later along with the mess in the bathroom.
Yawning, I finished getting ready and left for the squadron. I needed coffee. It was a necessity and worth being late. Luckily the drive-thru was quick and I ducked in only a few minutes tardy. I kept my head down. Maybe if I didn’t see them they wouldn’t see me.
“Is everything okay?” Mojo whispered as I slid into the chair next to him.
“I slept in.”
“You look like shit,” he said.
“You smell like shit,” I fired back as I stared straight ahead. I took a sip of my coffee.
Mojo chuckled and left me alone. I looked up after a few seconds and everyone was focused on the speaker, everyone except Locke. He stared at me. Our eyes connected for a second. Looking away, I fixed my gaze on the table. I felt his gaze bore into me. So what if I looked like hell, it was rude to stare.
His expression revealed something more. Something else. Guilt? He didn’t know I had seen him with her. And we weren’t dating. We had sex. Big flipping deal. It was one time and even though it was the best sex ever and I thought about it more often than not, it didn’t matter. He was free to do what he wanted, and so was I.
He moved on, and I would do the same with someone else. That was my answer. I had created that perfect night in my head. I needed to knock that night off its championship pedestal and throw my hat back in the ring. I needed to have sex. Now.
Well not now, but tonight. I needed to have mind-blowing sex with someone else and move on. Another one-night stand.
Shit. My shoulders slumped. Who was I kidding? It wasn’t me, not to mention I’d already learned my lesson. The hard way.
“Lieutenant Pinkerton, please stay. I need to speak to you.” A British accent interrupted my thoughts.
Really? He was going to corner me in the squadron?
Mojo patted me on the back. “Start crying. It makes guys uncomfortable and he won’t say anything about your being late.”
This wasn’t about my being late. At home, I could avoid him when he said my name, but here, he was my instructor. I had to follow his orders.
The room emptied. Locke closed the door, and came over to my seat. His leg brushed mine as he sat. Heat filled me in places that I was ashamed to admit as my heart swooned. I hated that he had this effect on me.
He rubbed the legs of his flight suit. Was he smoothing the wrinkles, or getting the sweat off his palms? Either way it made him look nervous. I waited it out. This was his meeting, not mine.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
There it was again—the scent of sandalwood. I tried to focus on something else, but all I could do was nod.
“Are you sure? You don’t look okay.” The kind tenor of his voice brought me back to our first kiss, not what I wanted.
I nodded again as I forced his lips from my mind.
“Have you eaten or slept?” He leaned closer.
“I’m fine. Is that all you wanted? I don’t want to be late again.”
“Tinklee, listen, I handled things poorly. I’m so sorry about your brother’s scenario. I should have come to you first. I wanted to warn you, but we had to know where your head was before you climbed into the jet.”
My eyes threatened to pop from their sockets. He was