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His fingers go to my jaw to force my eyes to his. “That’s not one-sided, Elora. You have that same power over me.” Another tear escapes from between my lashes. “I hate when you cry.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He cups my cheek, smoothing my tears away before pressing his lips to mine. When he pulls back, I curl myself into his chest, and his fingers smooth up and down my back, making my eyelids feel heavy. “As much as I want to stay in bed with you like this, we need to shower.”
“Why?”
“We have an appointment.”
“What appointment?” I frown, lifting my head to look at him.
“You’ll see.” He maneuvers us out of bed and carries me toward the bathroom.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises,” I tell him as he flips on the shower.
His eyes meet mine, and I swear they twinkle as he mutters, “You’ll like this one.”
17
ELORA
36.1716° N, 115.1391° W
I’ve never been afraid of dying because I know we all eventually take our last breath, whether we’re ready or not. It’s the one inevitable thing that no one can avoid. But standing in the air conditioned room of the hangar Roman brought me to and watching Billy—who might be three years older than me—place a picnic basket into one of the compartments in the helicopter I will be boarding, I realize I’ve never been afraid of dying because I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve been faced with the possibility of actually losing my life.
“You ready?” Roman asks, walking up to join me at the window and wrapping his hand around my hip.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I tell him, watching Billy close the compartment and start heading our way.
“You can.”
“Do you know how many news stories there are every year about helicopters or other small aircraft crashing unexpectedly for one reason or another?”
“Do you know how many times small aircraft and helicopters take off and land without incident?” he asks, and I look up at him. “I would cut off my own arm before I ever put your life in danger, Elora. I promise you’ll be safe.”
“Roman.”
“Just trust me.”
Trust him. I’ve easily done that since the first night we met, and I’ve never regretted giving him my trust so freely.
“Are you two ready?” Billy asks, poking his head through the door, and I look at him as fear like I have never felt before tightens around my insides, making it difficult to breathe.
“It’s up to you,” Roman says quietly, squeezing my hip.
I swallow. The choice is mine. I can say yes right now, or I can say no and maybe regret not going. I look at the pilot once more. He introduced himself to us when we arrived, then explained he flew for the Army and had hundreds of hours of flight time. I should feel safer with that knowledge, but I don’t.
I’m torn, but not wanting my own fear to get the best of me and miss out on a moment of living, I let out a breath.
“Ready,” I say quietly. Roman’s hand tightens around my hip in silent approval before he lets his hand fall away so he can thread our fingers together.
The walk to the helicopter is torturously slow, and each step feels like I’m walking through quicksand. Once I’m in my seat and buckled in, I check my straps a dozen times, even after Roman checked them himself multiple times before getting into his own seat.
With a pair of headphones on, I watch Billy get into the seat in front of us, and my heart thunders as the blades of the chopper come to life. The sound is so loud that it even blocks out the blood rushing through my ears. When the aircraft starts to lift off the ground, Roman’s hand finds mine, and I lock my fingers around his and squeeze so tight I worry that I’m going to hurt him.
