Page 162 of Aviatrix

I’ve never been more afraid. Never had to stand so tall when all I wanted was to run.

“Kinley Alexandria Quay!” Mom snaps. “What is going on? Tell me right this second!”

But Eli gets it, our silent language. He knows I can’t.

“I’m taking her to calm down,” he tells Mom. “She’ll be okay.”

“Why are you taking her?” she bristles. “She should go with her fiancé!”

“She can explain later,” Eli says. “Or the Colonel can explain now. Either way, excuse us, Mrs. Quay.”

Her protests follow us, her voice fading as Eli guides me through the crowded hangar.

It’s not until we’re alone in the hallway that the tears finally slow.

“We’re almost there,” Eli says quietly.

“I don’t think I can…” I murmur, trailing off. I’m spent. The last thirteen days have caught up to me. The alien attack. The desert base. San Diego. Walker. Oklahoma. The funeral. Eli. This.

Too much.

It’s too much.

I don’t even realize we’ve reached his room until he’s guiding me toward the bed. The same one where we spent last night.

The tears start again as I sit on the edge of the mattress and he squats in front of me, gently removing my shoes.

“Stay with me,” I whisper.

“I’ll stay,” he promises. “But the General’s coming. I need to—”

“Five minutes?” I ask. “Just stay five minutes?”

I shimmy out of the sweatpants but keep his shirt on. Crawl beneath the blanket. My body heavy. Empty.

Eli clicks off the light. The room fades to shadows as he slides in beside me. I find his chest again. He wraps his arms around me.

Outside the room, the world shifts. But here, in the dark, Eli holds steady. So, I let go.

“Sleep, Quay,” he says, as my breath slows against the familiar rhythm of his chest.

I’m not sure it’s possible, but I’ll try.

THIRTY-FIVE

THE JETLET PROTOCOL

I wake to the smell of coffee.

But it’s not Eli sitting in the chair by the bed. It’s Mom.

I swallow hard and sit up, pulling the covers with me.

“How long was I out?” I ask, the overhead light bright and blinding.

She offers a small smile. “Nearly twenty-four hours. I’ve been worried, my girl.”

She hands me the mug. I inhale. Strong and warm. I take a sip, letting the heat coat my dry throat.