“I don’t think you’re using Jackson. I’d be worried if you said that you were head over heels in love with him and you no longer felt anything for Will. But everything you’re feeling is actually on track. You might have bigger feelings for Jackson because you’re healing and becoming capable of them, Morgan. I’m really pleased at the progress you’re showing in this area.”

“So he’s not just some kind of Band-Aid?” I fidgeted with the sea-glass necklace.

“Not that I can tell. And honestly, a Band-Aid wouldn’t have touched you when you first came through those doors. You needed open-heart surgery. What you feel for Jackson appears to be genuine, but don’t be surprised if a little misplaced guilt worms its way in there. Don’t let it derail you or this new relationship. You’re still a work in progress.”

Work in progress. I needed that tattooed on my freaking forehead.

She reached for the tape recorder. “You ready?”

I nodded, and she hit the record button.

“I’m in the grocery store, and I pick up a jar of jam…”

…

“Okay, what am I doing here?” I asked Jackson the next day as I stood between our cars in the parking lot outside his station.

He had a devilish gleam in his eye that had me immediately suspicious. “I have an idea.”

“Do you?” I folded my arms across my chest and ignored how good he looked in that flight suit.

“I want you to see what I do.” He leaned back against his Land Cruiser and grinned.

“I already know what you do.” Like hell was I going to watch him fly. I already had trouble sleeping on nights I knew he was on shift.

“Right, but I want you to see it. I know how much it weighs on you, and maybe if you—”

“Stop.” I put out my hand. “You want me to what? Stand in your control tower and watch you fly the very thing that gives me nightmares?”

His grin vanished. “Not exactly. I want you to fly with me.”

Blood rushed from my face, and my stomach lurched. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m going to sneak you on board with my crew, and we’re going to fly a quick, easy patrol. Skies are baby blue, there’s not a cloud in sight, and there’s zero chance of foul weather. It’s the perfect day.” He stared at me with an intensity that told me he was serious.

“You’re not sneaking me on board anything, because there’s zero chance in hell any of that is going to happen.” I took a step toward him, shaking my finger.

Big mistake.