“It’s normal.” He tilts my chin to look at him; his eyes are warm like an oven. “You have to face your fears, Rainbow. Be strong.” His breath massages my cheek. “You got this. Breathe in through your nose and out your mouth.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale a lungful of air and exhale through my mouth for several minutes. My heartbeat slows as I repeat the ritual a few times.

We’re quiet for a while and then Gunner says, “I have a bed if you want to lie down.”

I lift my head and look around. There’s a sitting area with a gray couch and a flat screen sitting on a television stand.

“No, I want to stay here with you.” I study the stubble on his chin. It looks nice on him, making him look edgier. “I feel safe with you.”

I can’t believe I said that out loud. My eyes wander to his azure eyes with specks of gold around the irises. Could he get more beautiful? It’s like God hand-carved him.

“Why are you scared of flying?” he asks.

I stare down at our entwined fingers, it feels like needles are picking at my spine.

How do I answer his question without looking like a complete idiot?

“I don’t have control of the jet. If we go down, we’ll die and there’s nothing I can do about it.” My tone is tiny as Thumbelina.

“You can have control of a car and still die, Rainbow.” My eyes snap back to his face and his expression flaunts stoic.

“But you have a better chance of surviving in a car.”

He shakes his head. “You’re safer on a plane than a car.”

“How?” I highly doubt that.

“Well, think about it.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “When you’re in a car, you have to worry about another car hitting you, but in a plane, you don’t have that problem. If something goes wrong, it’s usually something mechanical.”

I never thought about it like that.

“This should help with your anxiety.” He lets go of my hand and grabs his headphones from his briefcase, plugs it into his iPad, and rests the headphones over my ears.

He taps a finger on the screen and an old rock song booms in my ears. I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me to use music to help cope with my anxiety.

As soon as the song is over I pull the headphones from my ears and rest them around my neck.

“I like this song. What’s the name of it?”

“Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles.” Gunner wraps his arm around my waist, then draws invisible circles on my thigh. His touch is comforting, soothing. My breasts are heavy and butterflies swim in my stomach.

“Oh, is this a new group?”