Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) (7 page)

I stayed on the bench long after she’d left, my gaze trained to the direction in which she’d walked away, as if that somehow could bring her back, my mind racing. I felt like the carelessness of my actions kept springing up again and again, the reminders that I’d caused her pain everywhere I turned.

I hadn’t come back to Bradbury because I couldn’t stand the image of myself that I saw here, the way the town and all of the memories it contained reflected back the worst version I could be, the way she reflected an image of myself that filled me with shame.

I knew the reasons behind why I’d left, remembered feeling like the walls were closing in on a future that I wanted but wasn’t ready for, a future that had seemed like a good idea in abstract but, the closer and closer it came, began to feel like a noose around my neck.

The only thing I’d been sure about was her. And for a long time, I’d thought that was enough. That for all the moments when I stumbled, when I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted out of my life, she would be there, steady and strong for me to lean on.

But it wasn’t enough.

I didn’t want her carrying me. Didn’t want to end up like my parents—my mother working her ass off supporting us, working two jobs while my father drank himself into a stupor every day until one day he just said fuck it, and left everything behind him.

I wanted to be a man she could be proud of, a man who would be a better kind of father, the kind of father who was there for my kids, who taught them not to make some of the
mistakes I’d made, the stupid acts of rebellion that had sent me to juvie and had me repeating a grade in high school. I’d wanted to be someone I had no clue how to be, and the second I spoke to the military recruiter, when he arranged for me to talk to one of the F-16 pilots stationed at Shaw, it was like something clicked. Something I’d only ever felt with Becca. Suddenly, I’d known exactly what I wanted to do with my life, known the kind of man I wanted to be.

Before I joined the military, we’d been the odd couple. Becca had graduated as the valedictorian of our high school class, had gotten into the University of South Carolina on a full ride. In the back of my mind, I’d always known she could have gone to a more prestigious school, but she’d said she wanted to stay close to home—close to me. I’d have been lying if I didn’t admit that it had bothered me the way people looked at us like they were just waiting for me to drag her down to my level, like she could have done so much better than me. No guy wanted to feel like the girl he was with had settled to be with him, even though I knew Becca had never felt that way.

But still. It was enough to light a fire under my ass. To make me determined to be someone worthy of her. And then, of course, I’d lost it all anyway, and the irony of it was that I didn’t like the guy staring back at me in the mirror much anymore, either.

I hit “Accept” on Eric’s friend request when I got home that night, feeling like I was sliding deeper into something I wouldn’t be able to pull my way out of. Because, of course,
it didn’t just stop at me accepting his friend request. No, I couldn’t resist the urge to go through the pictures, flipping through a slideshow of the last decade of his life.

Mistake. Big fucking mistake.

There were women. Lots and lots of women. Pictures of Eric all over the world with guys from his squadron, looking like he was having the time of his life.

I hadn’t exactly been in a convent the last decade, and I definitely hadn’t expected that he’d been celibate or anything, but damn, it was one thing to acknowledge it in the back of your mind and another entirely to see it. Over and over again.

I shut down my computer, feeling like an idiot for how easily I’d let him back in, or how I’d let myself hope that we could somehow be in each other’s lives again. Whatever he said, I struggled to believe he’d spent the last decade missing me. So why was he back now? Because he knew I would always be there for him when he needed it, despite the past? Was I just a stop for him along the way back to something bigger and better? Was I an idiot for trusting him?

I’d wanted to believe he’d changed, that he’d realized that he’d made a mistake all of those years ago. But I just didn’t know anymore, and despite how easy it was for me to imagine falling for him all over again, I couldn’t make myself let my guard down with him.

Love was easy; trust was the hard part.

It was no small feat to avoid someone in a town as tiny as Bradbury, but somehow I managed it throughout the week, impressing even myself with the level of subterfuge I employed. I caught glimpses of Eric—a flash of red hair, the view from behind while he ran down the street—but I always managed to escape before he could notice me.

I needed time. And tequila. And a night out with my girlfriends. And dancing. Definitely dancing.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a girls’ night?” Lizzie asked as we walked into Liberty on Friday night.

It hadn’t taken a ton of arm-twisting to get her to come out for the night, and because Adam was a truly awesome guy, he’d volunteered to watch the baby so Lizzie could have a night off and be my wing woman. They’d been married long enough for him to fully appreciate the implication of Eric blowing through my life again.

I scanned the crowded bar looking for Rachel and Julie.
The four of us had made the plan to hang out, going back and forth over the best spot for it.

Nightlife in Columbia was pretty much divided into two relatively close sections of town—the Vista and Five Points. The bars in Five Points always had a more college feel to them, and while the Vista was close to the Carolina campus, it tended to attract an older and more professional crowd.

I spotted Rachel and Julie waving at us from a booth and Lizzie and I wound our way through the crowd.

Rachel stood and hugged me. “Whoa. You look hot tonight.”

I grinned and said hi to Julie. “Thanks. You guys do, too.”

I’d sort of broken the whole don’t-wear-white-after-Labor-Day rule in favor of an amazing dress I’d found a few months ago and never had a chance to wear. It was strapless and fitted at the waist, and then it belled out into a flirty, short skirt. It wasn’t overly sexy or anything, but it was pretty and fun, and one of those outfits that immediately made you feel better the second you put it on.

Given the week I’d had, I needed something to make me feel better.

We exchanged greetings, Lizzie and I sliding into the booth with them.

Rachel’s phone went off and she looked down at the screen, typing something before glancing my way, a nervous expression on her face.

“So that guy from last weekend, Easy? He’s back in town for a friend’s wedding or something. I guess it’s the same guy whose bachelor party he flew out for last weekend. He’s with Bandit and Merlin, and they were talking about maybe meeting up with us, but I don’t want you to be
uncomfortable, so if it’s too weird, I can tell them we’re just having a girls’ night.”

I’d filled her in on my past with Eric when I called and apologized for bailing on our night out.

I hesitated, not sure I wanted another night ruined by fighter pilots. But the look on Rachel’s face was one I hadn’t seen on her before, and I hated to get in the way of her chance to see Easy if she did really like him.

“Is Eric—I mean, Thor—with them?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t mention him. Do you want me to ask?”

Fuck being nonchalant. I definitely wasn’t in the mood to deal with Eric. It had been another hellacious week at work and I desperately needed things to be fun—and pardon the pun, easy—tonight.

“Yeah, go ahead and ask him.”

Rachel’s fingers flew over the keyboard. Her phone pinged again.

“Easy says he’s not with them.”

That was good enough for me.

“Yeah, tell them to come then. I’m in.”

*   *   *

Okay, fine, maybe fighter pilots weren’t that bad. It wasn’t fair to give them all a bum rap just because Eric had broken my heart.

“How did you climb down from the water tower?” I asked, laughing as I took a sip of my margarita.

Bandit, Merlin, and Easy had been regaling us with stories all night, and even I had to admit, they were pretty fucking hilarious. It sounded like being a fighter pilot was basically like joining a fraternity on steroids, with a whole
lot of danger and responsibility added in. I figured it made sense that they needed to blow off steam once in a while, considering how crazy their lives were.

Bandit flashed me a wolfish grin. “Very carefully. I was fucking terrified that I’d fall, and even more terrified that the wing commander would catch me. Some commanders are cool about that stuff, other guys not so much.”

He draped his arm around the back of the booth, leaning in to me.

“Do you want to go get another drink at the bar?”

I stared down at my margarita glass, surprised to see I’d already finished it. I’d pretty much matched the guys drink for drink tonight, and considering they definitely partied harder than I did on a regular basis, I was struggling to keep up.

He held out his hand, a whiff of cologne filling my nostrils, and I waged a little inner war with myself. He seemed like a nice guy and he was cute, and while there weren’t sparks or anything, the last thing I wanted was to experience that plummeting-to-my-death, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling I got around Eric. Nothing would happen here; I wasn’t going to go home with him, didn’t even see myself kissing him given his connection to Eric, but I figured there was no harm in being nice or flirting a bit.

I grinned. “Sounds like a plan.” I took his hand and followed him to the bar, not oblivious to the envious glances thrown my way. Between Easy and Bandit, we’d definitely cornered the market on
fine
at our table.

I stayed close to Bandit while he ordered our drinks at the bar, my hand still in his. He turned back when he’d finished, his free hand reaching out to capture a strand of my hair, twirling it around his fingers, mischief in his eyes.

I shook my head in amusement. “You do realize that I’m not going to sleep with you, right?”

“You say that now. Give me an hour or two.”

I laughed. “Are all of you guys this arrogant?”

“We prefer confident.”

“I bet you do.”

“Are you not sleeping with me because of Thor?”

Way to be direct.

“Not entirely. Okay, maybe a bit. Let’s just say that I don’t have the greatest track record with fighter pilots. Plus it’s weird. You guys are friends. We were together. Ergo, weird.”

He grinned. “Ergo?”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. You’re cute and fun, but I just don’t need complicated right now. I wanted to let loose a bit tonight; if you want to go hang out with another girl, I totally understand. I don’t want to crash your plans for the evening.”

He tugged on the strand of hair, pulling me closer so that our bodies brushed against each other.

“One, Thor and I aren’t friends. Our paths have crossed because the F-16 community is small and we have friends in common, but we’ve never hung out or anything like that. Two, you’re cute. So if you don’t mind, I have big plans to flirt with you tonight. Even if that’s all there is.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than my gaze swept the room and I froze, locking on to Eric standing near the rest of our group, staring at me and Bandit, his mouth in a hard line, his eyes flinty.

Fuck.

And just like that, as though someone had flipped a switch inside of me, I came alive. I’d spent most of the evening with a hot fighter pilot flirting with me, and I couldn’t have cared less. Eric walked in and I felt a flash of
heat, nerves pinging inside my stomach like a pinball machine. His gaze ran over me from head to toe, each part of my body coming alive as his stare scalded me.

Fine.

Maybe I wanted him to look.

Maybe some part of me that still remembered how it had felt to open that letter, thinking he’d sent me something to let me know he missed me and getting something else entirely, wanted him to see me like this, dressed to kill, flirting with a hot guy. Maybe some part of me that was just a bit petty and mean, and nowhere near over our history, wanted him to look at me like something he’d lost and would never recover.

I wanted him to burn for me, ache for me, wanted to give him the same fucking sleepless nights he’d given me. So yeah, I welcomed that jealous look in his eyes, even if I shouldn’t have, because at least I’d gotten under his skin, at least I made him feel like he’d made me feel.

I turned away from Eric, my heart hammering so hard I could barely catch my breath. I forced myself to smile up at Bandit, and he grabbed my hand, tugging me away from the bar and leading me onto the empty space that had turned into an impromptu dance floor.

I swore I could feel Eric’s eyes tracking me through the crowd.

One of my favorite songs came on over the speakers in the bar, and I couldn’t resist the urge to throw my head back and move my hips, losing myself in the rhythmic beat.

This was what I’d so desperately needed—just to let go and relax a bit. To have some fun. And even though it would likely get me in trouble, deep down I knew, even as I danced with one hot fighter pilot, I really danced for another.

He watched me the entire time.

I walked into Liberty, my gaze peeled on the crowd, searching for Becca.

Easy had texted me two hours ago and mentioned that she was here, and I’d gone back and forth over whether I should come out at all. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she’d pretty much been avoiding me all week, whatever truce we’d reached in the cemetery on Wednesday apparently forgotten, and while part of me knew I should give her the space she needed, another part of me was afraid that she would use the space to keep a wedge between us.

I couldn’t apologize, couldn’t grovel at her feet, if she wouldn’t forgive me. And right now, she was a locked door I couldn’t break through. I’d thought I stood a chance, thought that the fact that she still talked to me like I meant something to her, like we were friends, meant we had a shot. But now it felt like that had just been wishful thinking, and I really had blown it with her.

So this was it. My Hail Mary, Hallelujah, final attempt at getting her to let me in. I’d caused her enough pain over the years; I didn’t want to keep doing it. If she truly wanted me out of her life, then I’d give her that.

I spotted Easy first, his arm wrapped around the same girl he’d been with the first night—a girl with hair eerily similar to Dani’s. Easy saw me across the crowd and waved me over, the girl—Rachel or something—tensing immediately at the sight of me and answering the question of whether she knew who I was to Becca.

I cut through the crowd, still searching for her, nerves rolling around in my stomach.

Easy jerked his head in greeting. “Hey, man.”

Rachel looked ready to bolt and warn Becca I was here.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked, glancing over his shoulder, trying to make out Becca’s features in the sea of people. Liberty was packed tonight.

His lips curved. “She’s by the bar with Bandit.”

Shit.

I didn’t know Bandit that well, but we’d been out together before, and if he was with Becca, it definitely wasn’t because he wanted to be friends.

Easy shot me a pointed look that irked the shit out of me. “Can you blame the guy?”

Fuck.

My gaze drifted to the bar, and then I froze.

Becca stood in a corner, the lights shining down on her like a fucking halo, the skirt of her dress brushing against Bandit.

She looked so beautiful that I felt it like a pang in my chest, the smile on her face one I’d seen so many times before, aimed at me. The one I’d lost. Thrown away. She looked like she was having fun, and then Bandit leaned in closer and said something that made her laugh, and her whole face transformed, her shoulders shaking, eyes sparkling.

I held my breath as her gaze drifted through the crowd; my heart hammered, waiting for the moment . . .

Our gazes locked, her body stiffening, the smile sliding off her face.

It knocked me back like a blow.

I’d envisioned finding a way to talk to her tonight, maybe dance with her, flirt with her; I hadn’t envisioned standing here with my heart in my hand, watching her flirt with Bandit of all fucking people, as what little hope I’d clung to died a bit inside.

I waited to see if she’d acknowledge me somehow, the
plea that she’d throw me one of her smiles—something, anything—battering me inside. A wave, even. Just some sign that she
saw
me, that she still cared, that there might be a chance for us to put the past behind us.

I’d missed her this week, missed seeing her face, hearing her laugh. We’d been apart for a decade, and somehow the glimpses I’d had of her had made everything harder, bringing back all those feelings we’d had for each other with a sharpness that pierced me.

Look at me. Please. Forgive me. Let me in.

I stood there like an idiot, the sound of Easy saying my name over and over again drowned out by the bar noise and the pounding of my heart.

And then she did turn, shifting her body away from me, tilting her face up to Bandit, her lips curving in a smile I knew all too well.

I watched, my feet rooted to the ground, my heart in my stomach, a sick, cold feeling sliding through my veins as Bandit led her out onto the dance floor and into his arms.

*   *   *

It hurt to look at her, to watch her body sway. Hurt to watch her give all that beauty and fire to Bandit. I’d never really liked the guy all that much to begin with—he was too cocky in the air, too full of himself on the ground—but now I really didn’t like him. There was no fucking way he didn’t know who Becca was to me and the fact that he clearly didn’t give a shit about it spoke volumes to how many ways he’d screwed over guy code.

Asshole. I hoped his next assignment had him flying freaking drones out of Creech.

Easy slid onto the bar stool next to me, and I stifled a groan.

The last thing I wanted was relationship counseling from the guy currently screwing his way through heartbreak.

“Go away.”

“You’re drunk,” Easy countered.

I’d passed by drunk three beers ago.

“Do you think this is going to win her over?”

Fucking Easy.

“I’m fine.”

“We both know you aren’t fine.”

I glared at him. “And you are? You want to talk about how many times I watched you make an ass of yourself ’cause you couldn’t stand the sight of Dani and . . .” My voice trailed off, the knot in my stomach that had been there since that night growing at the thought of Joker.

“Fuck you. I didn’t throw away a good thing because I was an ass.”

I flinched as his words hit their mark.

“If I’d ever had a shot with Dani, if things had been different, if I’d met her first, I would have done everything I could, become whatever I had to be to keep her. I wouldn’t have been a pussy about it, too afraid to make a move, ready to throw in the towel because things became too hard.”

“She hates me,” I replied, my voice bleak, ice filling my veins as Becca leaned in closer, her hand on Bandit’s chest, a smile on her lips and laughter in the air.

“So change her mind.”

“She won’t talk to me. Won’t look at me.” I gestured toward where she was dancing with Bandit.

“So you’re saying Bandit has more game than you do.”

I glared at him.

“I mean, that sounds like what you’re saying. Bandit just swooped in on your girl and you’re, what, rolling over and taking it?”

I couldn’t help feeling like she was slipping through my fingers if not already gone.

“Do you think she’s going to go home with him?”

I shouldn’t have asked the question—the words brought a knot in my stomach and another flash of pity on Easy’s face—and in that moment, I really got what it had been like for him to watch Dani and Joker together.

You were jealous, even though you had absolutely no right to be, but telling yourself that didn’t do a damned thing to make the pain go away. So you stood there, drowning in quicksand, watching as the one thing you wanted remained firmly out of your grasp.

Except I wasn’t Easy. And Becca wasn’t Dani—she wasn’t married, hadn’t given her heart to someone else.

So fuck it, maybe
this
was my Hail
Mary.