Heartless Hero (Crowne Point 1)

“Take this out of here or we’ll have to land,” the captain said.

“What the fuck?” Gemma looked at Abigail.

“You ruin everything.”

The pilot said something again about taking it out of the cockpit, but Abigail was blind. She shoved Gemma again just as I reached her, grasping her by the elbow.

“What did I do to make you hate me so much?” Abigail demanded, tears in her eyes.

“Hi, stealing the words out of my mouth!” Gemma said.

Abigail lunged with so much force she slipped out of my grasp. They were at each other, tearing at their hair. I put myself between them, but they still managed to get at each other.

Only Abigail would start a catfight five miles in the sky.

Abigail slapped Gemma, knocking the bottle of wine from her hand. It flew in a spiral arc toward the front of the cockpit. In retaliation, Gemma threw her glass at Abigail. I blocked the brunt of it, so it got in my hair, stained my shirt and jeans. The captain yelled as the bottle finished its trajectory against the front of the cockpit, shattering against the window and spilling onto the controls, some even splashing back onto us.

“Abigail Genevieve!” Tansy yelled, and it all came to a stop.

Tansy stood in the doorway to the cockpit. It was one of the rare times you saw Tansy Crowne not entirely made up. She had an emerald silk mask around her neck, matching silk pajamas, and her hair tied in a scarf.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Last year you threw a fit because a few of your things were forgotten…”

“It was my entire wardrobe. I had nothing to wear. I had to go shop and replace everything—”

She opened her eyes, pinning Abigail. “Hush. Are you incapable of going even one hour without making a scene?”

Ever calm and collected Tansy Crowne looked on the verge of explosion. Her cream hands in tight, white fists, her jaw clenched.

“We’ll need to make a landing, Mrs. Crowne,” the pilot said. “There’s wine on the dash. We’ll take you back to Crowne Point.”

“Landing?” Tansy asked, a frown making what little lines she had on her face pop.

“But we’ve barely been in the air,” Gemma said, then turned to Abigail. “I hope you’re fucking happy.”

“I won’t be happy until you’re dead,” Abigail yelled.

The fighting nearly started up again, so I pulled Abigail away from her family, away from everything, all the way into a secluded bedroom.

The pounding of my heart was louder than the engines and wheels of the plane as the pilot began the descent.

“It’s her fault,” Abigail said, staring at the door.

“What’s her fault, Abigail?” My words were quiet. It felt like a secret, one we’d been holding in for far too long.

She kept staring at the door, so I cupped her neck and cheek, turning her to me. Her eyes settled on mine.

“All of it,” she finally said, but like there was more she’d wanted to say. “What do you mean I abandoned you?”

My grasp on her neck and cheek tightened, my thumb fanning to encase her entire jaw.

“You sent me away to California, Abigail,” I replied, the memory still stinging. I stroked her jaw with my thumb, kept my grip on her neck possessive. “You left me. You took me in and then abandoned me just like my fucking mother. At the time, I didn’t know why, but now I do. You saw me with Gemma—”

“I didn’t send you away,” she cut me off, eyes wide. “You were my best friend. You were all I had. I loved you… even if you didn’t love me.”

A weighted pause followed her words, our eyes locked. I didn’t know if I could believe her, if I wanted to believe her.

If Abigail didn’t send me away, then who did?