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Page 72
Page 72
“Is your family coming next Monday for Family Day?”
He didn’t look up. “Just to watch me fly the training helicopter? No. They can’t afford to make the trip twice. They’ll come down when I graduate. Yours?”
“Fuck no,” I replied instantly.
He raised his eyebrows at me, looking up. “Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked slowly.
I laughed. He looked like he was in physical pain. “No, and the answer will always be no, I promise.”
“Right on.” He dropped his focus to his work. “Have a good time with Paisley. You lucked out there.”
I caught the longing that snuck into his tone. “Is there someone at home for you?” I asked. “You go home every chance you get, but you don’t really say anything.”
His jaw flexed, and the grip on his pen tightened. “Want to talk about your family?”
“No,” I repeated. He looked up, silent, and I got the message. His love life was like pretty much everything else for this guy—a no-fly zone.
“Good talk.” I waved, shaking my head as my cell phone rang. Paisley. I smiled as I answered. “Hey, Little Bird, I’m on my way to you.”
“Hi. I’m sorry to call you so late, but I’m actually not there.”
“Are you okay?” Panic squeezed my heart. “Are you having an attack?”
“I’m in Birmingham, but I’m okay. Some routine tests ran late, and the doc wants to run some overnight.”
“I’m coming,” I answered, headed for my room.
“Don’t you dare! It’s three hours away, and you have class tomorrow.”
I pulled down my duffel bag and started throwing enough clothes in it for a couple days, tossing her sweatshirt in for good measure. She’d want it if she had to be stuck there. “I’m coming, Paisley.”
“Seriously, Jagger. You wouldn’t get here until nine thirty, and that’s not counting traffic. They’re releasing me in the morning.”
“You don’t want me there?” Holy shit. I was going to be sick.
“Of course I do.” Her voice was soft. “I just don’t want you driving this late when you won’t be able to see me anyway. Visiting hours are over at ten, and Morgan is already pushing it.” She had Morgan take her, not me.
“I don’t like you being in the hospital and not getting to see you.” I swallowed; the idea tasted like sand in my mouth.
“Me, either, I promise. Tell you what. If they keep me another day, will you come?” she asked.
I sighed, squeezing my eyes shut. “Of course. I’ll leave as soon as you tell me I can.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry about dinner. I should have called you earlier. I just didn’t realize how late it’d gotten.”
“Little Bird, a date is the least of my worries. Are you really feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I actually feel great, which I think is why he likes to poke at me. Now you’d better study.”
“I don’t need to study.” I laughed.
“Go read your books, Jagger. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t get an Apache.”
“Ooh, you’re sexy when you’re all stern.” And sexy when she laughed, and read a book, and even fucking slept.
“Don’t you start.” A new set of voices came in through the background. “Jagger, the nurse is here. I have to call you back.”
“Okay. I love you. Let me know what you need.” I paused, leaving that door open, again.
“I will. Thank you, honey.” She hung up without walking through it. Again.
It had been a month since I told her I was in love with her, and she hadn’t said it back. I tried not to let it bother me, but there was this little nagging voice in my head that beat the shit out of my self-confidence every time she left my declaration hanging there solo.
It also kept me from sleeping with her. She’d been putting out signals that she was more than ready, but apparently I was the chick in this relationship. I wanted the words before the deed. Probably because I’d never had them.
My phone rang again, and I smiled, answering without looking. “Hey,” I answered. “Change your mind?”
“Jagger?”
I checked the caller ID. It was Paul. “Hey, man, what’s going on?”
“I’ve found her.”
Anna.
My perfect life had morphed into fucked up in ten minutes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jagger
God, she was worth it the whole time, and she’s worth it now. Let me make myself clear: I choose her over you, and I always will.
The sky over Chicago was black as the literal midnight it was. I skipped baggage claim and instead found Paul standing near the exit. Easily a head taller than everyone around him and built like a linebacker, he was easy to spot. He shook my hand and gave me a North Face coat, tags attached. This wasn’t our first go-round.
“You ready?” he asked, taking my duffel bag and lifting it over one of his massive shoulders. Paul was only ten years older than I was, and I’d known him just as long.
“As ready as I ever am.” He led the way out to his Range Rover, and I climbed into the passenger seat, putting my backpack at my feet.
He threw my duffel bag in the back and took the driver’s side, pulling out of the airport as I buckled my seat belt. “Did you bring it?”