Chapter Twenty

Jackson

“You can’t be serious,” Morgan drawled as she settled against me on her couch. She fit under my arm like she had been made for that exact spot.

“It’s a modern classic,” I argued, barely hiding my grin as I hovered the cursor over the buy button on Morgan’s TV. Man, I freaking loved teasing her.

“I am not watching Sharknado on the only night I get you alone. Nope. Not happening.” She shot me a look that said she meant business as the microwave dinged.

“Come on, Kitty. It has it all. Action, suspense—”

“Sharks falling from the sky?” She got off the couch and headed for the kitchen, and I quickly followed after her, shamelessly checking out her ass in those tiny blue shorts. She wore a sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder, and with her hair twisted up into a knot, I got a sneak peek at her purple bra strap. There was nothing sexier than when Morgan was fully relaxed at home. Her home. My home. I was game for either.

I told my dick to behave, but it wasn’t really interested in listening. It had one status when Morgan was in the room, and that was erect.

She reached into the new microwave and pulled out a freshly popped bag of popcorn. “Grab the M&M’s.”

I lifted a rather skeptical brow but did as she asked, then slid the package across the gray granite that had been installed in the kitchen almost two weeks ago. Hard to believe it was already the middle of June and even harder to think that I’d only known her for three months. She was a fixture in my world now, and every minute I spent around her only convinced me more that she was a permanent one.

I hadn’t just fallen for her—I was head over heels in love with her. I’d known it in the hour it had taken Josh to tell her the story of how Will had died. She was the strongest woman I’d ever known, even if she didn’t think so. I loved everything about her, from the way her face formed the expressions of the characters in whatever book she was reading to the determination with which she attacked each day. Hell, I even loved the colorful lesson plans she spent her days constructing, getting ready for the school year to start. I couldn’t think of a single thing I didn’t love about her.

She dumped the popcorn into a bowl, then poured the M&M’s over it. I wasn’t about to argue with the woman’s choice of snacks, but it was definitely one of the odder things I’d seen.

“What can I do to help?”

She flashed a grin. “Just stand there and look pretty.”

She’d been doing more of that since her friends had come—smiling and teasing. I wasn’t going to go as far as to say that she was healed, and it wasn’t for me to say, anyway, but she had definitely taken a stride in that direction.

A slim, silver tape recorder caught my eye toward the back of the counter. “What’s this for?” I asked, picking it up so I could show her what I meant.

She looked up, blanched, and the bowl slipped out of her hands, rattling on the granite for a few seconds before it came to a stop. “It’s for therapy. Please don’t press play.”

“Okay.” I set it back down carefully. “I wasn’t going to, I promise.”

“Thank you.” She shook it off and forced a smile. “So, about Sharknado?”

I laughed, then picked up the bowl. “We can watch whatever you want, Kitty. After all, stay in and veg out was your idea for date night, remember?”

“Hmmm.” A devilish gleam sparkled in her eye. “What about Jane Eyre? Or Pride and Prejudice?”

I grimaced but nodded. “Like I said, anything you want.”

“You’re only saying that because there’s a storm going on and you can’t drag me out to go jetpack surfing or whatever.” She took a couple of pieces of popcorn from the bowl with an M&M. “Open up.”

I obliged her and then groaned as the mixture of salty and sweet hit my tongue. “Okay. I take back my earlier thoughts and doubts. That’s amazing. And I’ve never heard of jetpack surfing, but I’d be up for trying it,” I teased.

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed me. It was soft and ended way too soon. There had been a crackling electricity between us since the morning we’d been interrupted in my bedroom. Between my work hours and Fin’s evolving visitation schedule with Claire, Morgan and I hadn’t been able to find more than an hour or two together, and the awareness between us was nearly painful.

With Sam at Grayson’s parents’ for the night, we were alone. Actually, truly, completely alone for the entire night.

We settled back onto the couch, and she flipped through movie options rapidly, as if she didn’t care what we watched, either, because we weren’t really going to be watching it anyway.

A gust of wind moved the chaise lounge on the deck, and rain fell in sheets against the glass that stretched across the back of her house.

“Do I need to worry?” she asked.

“No.” I set the popcorn on the table in front of us and tucked her into my side. “This isn’t bad.”

“So I can stop waiting for the dune to break?” She peered over as the chaise moved again.

I kept my laugh well and smothered. “The dune isn’t going to break, Kitty. That would take a hurricane or at least a healthy storm surge.” My cell phone rang, and I grabbed it with my left hand so I wouldn’t have to let go of Morgan, then muttered a curse when the caller ID flashed.

“Shit. It’s the station,” I told her with a wince. “Sorry, I’m on call.”

“Well, then, answer it.” She flashed me a smile and clicked on comedies while I swiped to take the call.

“Montgomery,” I answered.

“Thank God.” Sawyer’s voice was tight, which immediately set me on edge. “Tell me you’re at your house.”

“I’m at Morgan’s.” I got up and walked to the windows. We had about an hour until sunset, so I had no problem seeing the massive white caps roiling angrily just beyond our beach.

“Close enough. A call just came in, the other crew is already engaged, and Hastings just slipped on the fucking deck. I’m pretty sure he broke his leg. Garrett’s looking at him right now.”

“Is it urgent?” The last thing I wanted was to leave Morgan and haul my ass out into a storm for someone who didn’t actually need my help. Problem was, if they called us, they needed the fucking help.

“Life threatening. We’ve got a capsizing fishing vessel with two sailors on board. How fast can you get in here?”

Shit.

“Run up the bird. I’ll be there in six minutes.”

“Roger.”

I ended the call and slid the phone into my pocket. It would take him roughly ten minutes to get the bird through preflight.

“Don’t go.” The words carried the brittle sound of terror as Morgan reached my side. That same fear manifested in her wide eyes.

“Kitty, I have to.” I cupped her face. “It sounds like Hastings fell and broke his leg, and Sawyer can’t go out alone. I gotta go save some lives.”

She ripped her face from my hands and pointed at the sea. “And who exactly is going to show up and save your life? You can’t go out in this!” Her muscles locked and her pupils blew. My stomach twisted. This was bad, and I didn’t have the time to reassure her like she needed. It would have been great if Sam had shown up right about now.

“I know it looks bad out there, but I’ve flown in far worse.” I had to be out of here in the next ninety seconds. “I will be fine.”

She shook her head. “No. No. No. The visibility is shit. What do you think the ceiling is? Five hundred feet?”

I glanced toward the sky. “Probably closer to four—wait, how do you know what a ceiling is?”

“Because I helped him study during primary!” Her voice pitched to a near shriek.

Fantastic. My girl was terrified and knew what she was talking about. “Morgan, honey, I’m more than comfortable with four hundred feet, and I’m just fine flying IFR.” Not that I was a fan of having to fly instruments during shit weather, but it was better than letting people die.

She looked out at the ocean and back to me. “Call the pilot in command. There’s no way this can be approved. Look at it!”

If I hadn’t known her past, I would have kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door, which was pretty much what I needed to do anyway.

“I already checked in with him, and the flight’s approved.” I grasped her shoulders lightly, hoping the physical connection would emotionally ground her. “I have to go, and I don’t want to leave you like this, but people will die if I do not leave right now. Do you understand, honey?”

“Who would approve this?” she cried as the chaise slammed against the window. Perfect fucking timing.

“Me,” I said as calmly as possible. I was down to twenty seconds, if that. “I’m the pilot in command.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and it crippled a part of my soul. God, I’d never wanted to be the one who caused that kind of defeat in her.

“And if I ask you not to? If I ask you to choose your own life over those people out there?” Misery emanated from her so thick I could almost taste it.

How could you die for them and not live for me? Those were the words she’d screamed at Will’s truck the night I told her I was an SAR pilot.

I slid my hands to cradle the back of her head. “I’m not choosing their lives over mine. I wouldn’t risk my crew like that. I wouldn’t risk Finley’s future or yours, Morgan. Do you trust me?”

She nodded slowly.

“Then trust that I won’t put myself in unnecessary danger. I have to go.”

“Okay.” She swallowed and blinked back tears without letting them fall. “Okay. You go. I’ll…wait here. But don’t expect any popcorn to be left by the time you get back.” Her words shook, but I’d take them. I couldn’t begin to guess what saying them had cost her.

I yanked her into my arms and pressed a hard kiss to her forehead, then pulled back so I could see those gorgeous brown eyes again. “I love you, Morgan.”

Her eyes widened even further.

“I love you more than I can possibly tell you in the next three seconds, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. I will come home to you, I promise. Do you believe me?”

Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

I kissed her, hard and quick. “I love you,” I said against her mouth because it felt so fucking good to say the words.

Then I walked out of Morgan’s house and ran the rest of the way to my car. I was dressed and in the seat thirty seconds after Sawyer finished the preflight. We launched immediately.

Morgan was right. Ceilings were low and visibility was shit, but I hadn’t lied—I was comfortable flying in it.

I just didn’t like it.

And when that fishing boat’s mast came within inches of my tail rotor in those choppy-ass seas and gusting winds, she nearly took us down with her, but there was zero chance in hell I was ever going to tell that part of this story to Morgan.

Not ever.