“I’m sorry,” she reached over and traced her thumb along the edge of his jaw.
“Not the first time they’ve let me down. And I have no doubt I’ve let them down many times too.”
“It must be tempting to give up on them.”
“Tempting?” he raised an eyebrow. “Done. I’m not wasting my time on them again.”
Her hand stilled, resting against his cheek. Trailing his fingers along the contours of her wrist, he kissed her palm, then laced his fingers with hers and lowered their joined hands to the armrest between them.
As much as his parents were worthless, hers seemed great so far. When they’d met up at the airport, Freya’s parents had immediately enveloped her and asked to meet her young man and fussed and fretted as parents are supposed to. Her father had given him the evil eye, until Freya had made it clear he was coming as her plus-one as a favor. Then he’d only given an occasional suspicious sideways glance. Her mother had hugged him as fiercely as she had her daughter, nearly busting his ribs with her enthusiasm. As much as they didn’t understand Freya, they loved her.
During takeoff, Freya inhaled slow and easy, watching out the window as the engines roared, the plane steadily gaining altitude. He watched as her eyes danced with merriment as the cars shrunk to ant-size, the highways no more than lines in the sea of green, and they rose above the clouds. Pulling her feet up, she slipped off her shoes and pulled a sketchbook and a tin of pencils from her purse.
He closed his eyes and took advantage of the numbing rumble of the engine, the quiet murmurings of the other passengers. Force of habit, he was out like a light the second they reached the clouds. Never knew when you could rest again; banking sleep was necessary.
Flashing under his lids, strobe-like blasts threatened to nail a hole in the cargo bay. Jerking up and down, the turbulence tugged at the wings. The snapping of tie-downs behind him. One of the crates whipped from its remaining safety strap.
Unbuckling his harness, he braced his gait and moved to lock it down. Busting completely free, the crate surged toward him, on the way to knock him flat and everyone sleeping behind him. Appearing at his side, Jack and Asher shoved forward. As a unit, they slammed the weight of their combined strength and halted the crate before it took anyone out.
Not fucking fast enough.
Dropping hundreds of feet before stabilizing again, the plane shuddered, the crate rose in the air. In slow motion, the massive thing slammed back down.
A dense metal hook smashed back and cracked into Jack’s skull, knocking him out cold.
Shouting over the thunder, the engines screaming to stay in the air, Asher snapped his attention back to the danger they could fix.
While Jack lie bleeding on the floor, Asher and Zane heaved and shifted the crate back against the wall, strapping it back down.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Freya rested her palm on his cheek, repeating her reassurances like a plea.
Sealing his eyes shut, he blocked the memory that wasn’t a memory. Where Jack had jumped back up, unphased and larger than life, Zane’s twisted subconscious seemed bent on killing his friend every time he closed his eyes.
Like a never-ending punishment for the time Jack hadn’t gotten back up again, but Zane had.
Everything blurring around him, nausea wrenching his gut, he found Freya’s intense blue eyes and locked on to the anchor, her familiar voice centering him. Blinking, he inhaled slow and steady.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
He clenched his teeth and gave her a subtle nod, letting her know he was back.
Above, the seatbelt sign flipped on. The pilot’s voice came through, letting them know it was ninety degrees without a trace of wind. Fucking Reno. What the hell was he thinking?
Sharing the rental car with her parents had been stupid. Zane hardly said a word, his poker face out in full force. Her parents made small talk, her mother saying how bummed she was they’d missed the bridal shower, her father wondering out loud if Uncle Joe still had the boat so they could go fishing.
While offering the occasional nod or polite conversation-furthering question for her parents to keep things light, Freya linked hands with Zane. He stared out the window, expressionless as they passed casino after casino. She remembered Tahoe as beautiful, but Reno was not her type of place.
When he finally glanced her way, she raised her eyebrows, silently asking if he was okay. He nodded, then looked back out the window again. The moment they reached the hotel, he grabbed their garment bag and his backpack, linking his hand with hers as they walked inside.
While she checked them in, he walked to the wall of windows overlooking the lake and stared out at the mountains in the distance. Nodding to her dad while her mother asked the concierge about what sort of view they had and what time the restaurant was open for breakfast and was there room service, Freya accepted the pair of room keys from the attendant and joined Zane.
“All good?” she asked.
He nodded again, his jaw still flexing instead of opening to talk.
She slipped her hand back into his and led the way to the elevator. Up to the fourth floor, she held the key in front of the second to last door at the end of the hall, the light blinking green as the lock clicked open. Travel days were the worst, but this was so much better than crossing the Atlantic and the continental US. No jetlag was brilliant.
Zane breathed deeply as he followed her inside, his shoulders relaxing as he hung the garment bag in the closet and stashed his backpack under it. Freya dashed in the bathroom to refresh, unsure what to expect when she returned.