Slowly—so, so slowly—I lean in. My heart pounds as my lips brush against his, the softest touch, barely even a kiss. Just a taste, just enough to send a shiver down my spine.
And then I pull back.
I need space. I need air.
But the second I step away, I see it in his eyes—that flicker of something dangerous, something that says he won’t let me run this time.
I take a shaky step back, putting distance between us, even though every cell in my body screams at me to stay close. This is the part where I set boundaries, where I remind myself why this is a bad idea—why Ash is dangerous in ways that have nothing to do with flying.
But my heart has other plans.
I exhale slowly, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “I want to try,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear, “to see if this… if we could turn into something.”
Ash’s expression shifts, something flickering in his eyes—surprise, relief, maybe even something deeper. But before he can say anything, I add, “But no one can know.”
His brows pull together, and for a second, I think he might argue. But then, that familiar smirk—the one that always gets me into trouble—ghosts across his lips.
“Keeping secrets, huh?” His voice is low and teasing, but I don’t miss the edge of something serious beneath it.
I swallow hard, my pulse racing. “I mean it, Ash.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he is deciding if this is enough… if I am enough. Then, with a slow nod, he steps back, mirroring my distance.
“Okay,” he says simply. “We’ll do this your way.”
But the way he is looking at me like he has no intention of letting me keep him at arm’s length forever… I know this is only the beginning.
Her words hit me like a punch to the chest.
She wants to try.
For a second, I can’t move, can’t breathe. I spent all day chasing her down, trying to get her to stop running, and now—now she is standing right in front of me, asking for this. Asking for us.
But then she said it. No one can know.
That part settles differently, twisting into something deep in my gut. I know fear when I see it, and Amelia is afraid—not of me, but of what this could be.
I step in close, not giving her a chance to back away this time. My hands find her face, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones as I tilt her head up, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Who hurt you so bad that you don’t trust?” I ask, my voice rough.
She sucks in a breath, her lips parting, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. I see it in the way her shoulders tense, in the way her fingers curl like she is bracing for impact. Someone broke her before, made her believe love came with conditions, with rules.
I want to find whoever it was and make them pay.
Instead, I do the only thing I can do. I kiss her.
Deep. Slow. Like I have all the time in the world to make her understand she doesn’t have to run anymore. That I won’t be just another mistake.
When I pull back, she is breathless, her hands gripping my shirt like she isn’t ready to let go.
I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in. “We’ll do it your way for now, Phoenix,” I murmur. “But know this—I won’t hide forever.”
Because whatever this is, whatever we are starting—it is too big, too real, to keep in the dark. And eventually, she’ll have to decide if she will fight for it.
Two weeks.That is all the time we have before the first air show, and every second counts. The entire team is gathered in the briefing room, waiting for assignments, but my focus keeps slipping—drifting to the woman sitting two seats away.
Amelia.
