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.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Morgan

I want you to be happy. Never forget that.

I glanced at my phone again and read his text message for the hundredth time.

Jackson: Landed safe. I’ll be there after debrief.

The message had come in an hour ago, at which time I’d started breathing again.

The bowl of popcorn sat untouched on the table, and my book remained unread in my lap. I’d been staring at my wall of windows for the last three hours and twenty-seven minutes, listening to the rain pelt the glass mercilessly.

I hadn’t even prayed that he’d come home like he promised for the fear that God would notice that I still existed and then take Jackson, too.

He loved me.

How could that incredible, kind, frustrating, stubborn, phenomenon of a man love me? How was I supposed to be worthy of that?

This was it. If I stayed with Jackson and accepted his love, this was what my life would look like. How many hours would I stare at the windows and wait for him to come home? How many times would he kiss me and walk out the door in those kinds of conditions? How many times would he risk his life?

At what point would he be on the losing end of that risk?

At what point would I be?

But he loved me. Did he expect me to say it back? I was falling for him. I’d already admitted that much, but love? I wasn’t sure I was even capable of that in the way he deserved. Now, if the man was interested in some hardcore infatuation, I could serve that up to him on a platter.

What was I going to say to him when he walked in that door? Was I really willing to endure this paralyzing fear every day just so I could be with him? If so, did that make me noble? Or really damned stupid?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I jumped off the couch and raced for the door, not bothering to check the peephole before throwing it open. Jackson stood in the doorway, leaning on the outside of the frame. Humidity from the spent storm rushed at my skin, but at least the rain had stopped.