My eyes followed his figure out the door, but I was incapable of speech or thought. There was nothing I could say that would erase what I’d said, or how stupid I’d been. But he was free. He’d bounce back. He’d get his dream, but I wondered if he’d ever realize that he’d been mine.

“Lee?” Will sat on the edge of my bed. “I should have told you, but I promised her that I’d let you make your own choice.”

“I don’t want to hear about Peyton. Not now.” Losing Jagger hurt too much. I released my fingers from the fist I’d made, and the light instantly reflected on Jagger’s nickel. “At least he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for, right? Without me distracting him?”

“That’s why you did it—said that crap to him. You pushed him away.”

“He deserves better than this. I know how hard he’s worked, how much flying that helicopter means to him. He was exhausted this morning and had no business flying, and it will only get worse if he stays with me. At least now he has a shot. He can get his dream.” Will’s mouth tightened. “What? Don’t you dare hide anything else from me, William Carter.”

“He’s got no shot at top of the OML. He’ll be lucky to get into the top ten even if they let him retake the test.”

I blanched. I clung to one last hope, knowing the aircraft numbers varied from class to class. “How many pilots?”

“Twenty-three made it through.”

“How many Apaches are there for selection?”

“Six.”

You just shattered him for no reason. He’s not getting one anyway.

I’d done this to him, taken away the one thing his family hadn’t been able to. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number by heart. It rang four times and then went to voice mail.

I waited, and then spoke, my voice stronger than my determination. “Hi there, Dr. Larondy. It’s Paisley Donovan, and I just wanted to let you know that I’ve made my decision, so you can go ahead and schedule that surgery. I’ll be ready.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Jagger

But when you have that thing worth fighting for, you claw, you kick, you beg. Mom taught me that. But I couldn’t save her. And you didn’t bother trying. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.

I raised the beer to my lips and swallowed. A few girls danced in the corner of Oscar’s bar, Marjorie one of them, but I didn’t care enough to even notice what she was wearing. She was pretty damn loud when she drunkenly toppled over the speaker, though.

Six fucking days had passed since Paisley had kicked me to the curb, and I wasn’t sure how I was still breathing, seeing as most of my blood supply was made up of alcohol. Oh, I’d shown up sober to fly and even aced that retake on the test, but it only served to get me through school. The original score was tallied into the OML. Selection was the day after tomorrow, and with only six Apache slots…well, I’d lost the two things I loved the most in one week.

It wasn’t the helicopter that hurt the most. No, that was a gaping, festering gash in my soul, but at least it was something. But Paisley…I couldn’t feel anything—not pain, or grief. Nada. I kept myself busy or drunk, because if I slowed down, even for a millisecond, and realized what had happened? I wasn’t sure I’d ever breathe again, or have a reason to.

I took another sip and looked up at the flat screen. Go figure, there was my father on CNN at his first official reelection campaign rally. I ignored it until they flashed our last family picture, Mom included—never a good sign. “Can you turn it up?”

The bartender rolled her eyes but did it.

With the music playing, it took all my concentration to hear my father.

“…and I’ll say it again: I respect the wishes of my children to live private lives outside the microscope of the press.” I just appear randomly and destroy them.

“So we won’t be seeing them during the campaign?”

“No, I won’t be trotting them out to smile for the cameras. I chose this life. They did not. I can say that I’m sincerely proud of the strong, independent adults they’re growing into. Of course, all that credit goes to my late wife. Now, how about we talk about this spending bill?”

Par for the course. Exemplary politician and a shit father. I tuned him out for the rest of the segment and put away two more beers in the next thirty minutes.

My keys disappeared off the bar, and I didn’t need to look to know that it was Josh. “Grayson’s got dinner waiting at home. Why don’t we get some food in you?”

“How fucking domestic.” I laughed and finished off the longneck. “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

“We have our final check rides tomorrow. A bar is the last place we need to be.”

“Then leave.” I motioned for another beer, and the bartender complied.

Josh took the bar stool next to me and started peeling the label off my discarded bottle. “Jagger, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. There’s no chance I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, well, all I did was suggest aviation. My dad pulled the strings to get us in, right? I don’t even fucking belong here. I wasn’t good enough to get in on merit, and sure as hell wasn’t good enough for…” Shit, it felt like I’d sliced open my heart to bleed out internally. I couldn’t even say her damn name out loud. Yeah, numb was better.