Page 48

I set the parking brake and let go of the controls.

For a few seconds, nobody says anything.

Then Brian’s voice comes through the intercom.

“Good landing.”

Colston drops his checklist onto his lap and sinks back into his seat. “Next time you want to get off work early to see Goldie, just ask.”

I flip him off as I unbuckle my harness.

Brian starts bitching about the paperwork waiting for us, and Colston laughs, but I barely hear either of them because now that I’m sitting still, my hands have started shaking.

I press them against my thighs.

During the flight, there wasn’t room in my head for anything except getting us back on the ground. Now there is, and I can’t stop thinking about how fast this could’ve gone sideways if the oil had gotten hot enough to catch fire.

About the Gulf underneath us.

About Goldie.

About the baby.

Fuck.

I’ve always known this job can kill me. That’s part of what I love about it, as fucked up as that probably sounds.

But I’ve never had my kid waiting for me to come home before.

We finish shutting everything down, and I’m halfway down the crew stairs when I pull my phone from my flight suit.

There’s already a string of texts from Goldie.

GOLDIE: wanna know something gross?

GOLDIE: I woke up craving pickles and peanut butter

GOLDIE: what have you done to me?

I chuckle as I stop walking, staring at the bright screen while the sun beats down on the back of my neck.

I type back quickly, keeping it understated because the last thing I want to do is panic her. I also don’t want her to find out about what happened from Colston, and he’ll definitely tell her if I wait on it.

SUMNER: Don’t act like you don’t like it

SUMNER: Send me your address and I’ll have some delivered

GOLDIE: nice try, stalker

SUMNER:

GOLDIE: aren’t you supposed to be in the air right now?

SUMNER: About that

SUMNER: I need to tell you something

SUMNER: Don't freak out