Above and Beyond (Twist of Fate 4)

“No,” I barked. Half the people in the room turned to stare at me. My heart hammered in my chest and I felt like I was having trouble breathing. “No fucking way,” I said in a lower voice. My eyes pinned Lucky’s as he actually began to stand and reach his hand out to mine like we were meeting for the first time. It didn’t even occur to me to take his hand and play into the act. “Lucky, outside. Now.”

Lucky’s pretty brown eyes went from nervous and unsure to little chips of ice just like that. His entire body stiffened and something in his jaw began to tic as he sat back down in his seat. Not surprisingly, my body reacted accordingly.

“How about no?” he said. “Not only no, but hell no. I’m fine where I am.”

Tag looked back and forth between us. “Uh, I assume you two already know each other?”

I reached for Lucky’s upper arm and pulled him up, leaning in to speak quietly in his ear. “If you think for one minute I’m allowing you inside that helicopter, you’re dead fucking wrong. So you can either come outside to talk about it or sit in here and waste your time learning about something you’re never going to actually do.”

His entire body shook with fury. “Fine,” he hissed. “Jackass,” he added under his breath.

When we reached the cooler air outside the hangar, I pulled him around the corner and away from view. My brain was whirring in some kind of unproductive spin-cycle in which I stood no chance at putting together a rational argument.

Lucky yanked his arm out of my grip and turned to face me. The morning sunlight washed across his face, pulling warm brown streaks from his hair and setting his eyelashes alight. I realized how much the outdoor living in Colorado had lightened his hair over the years. He was so fucking beautiful, it hurt.

“You’re supposed to be in Wyoming,” I said like an idiot.

Lucky lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to be a professional.”

I clenched my teeth. “Dammit, Lucky, you can’t be here.” Great, now I was on the verge of whining. Maybe I needed to stomp my foot for good measure.

“But I am,” he said calmly. “So unless you can give me an actual reason why I can’t participate in your class…”

In desperation, I pulled out the big guns. “Do your dads know you’re here?”

Lucky’s nostrils flared, and I felt the pinch of regret. “Does Tag know you have PTSD and crippling migraines?”

His question was like a punch to the gut but only because it was a reminder that I hadn’t told Tag the extent of my medical issues. I’d started on a migraine prevention medication, and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell Lucky what was truly behind the PTSD episodes when I managed to catch myself and snap my mouth shut before any words could escape.

A cool breeze ruffled Lucky’s hair and a bird squawked somewhere in the distance as Lucky and I stared at each other. I heard the sound of metal clanking from another hangar farther down the airfield. Finally, Johnny poked his head around the side of the building.

“Uh, Zach? We’re kind of waiting on you to get the ball rolling in here.” He noticed Lucky and lit up like a damned Christmas tree. “Oh, hello. Are you in our class?” He reached out a hand to shake. “I’m Johnny—”

“Give us a minute,” I snapped. Johnny’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Yeah, uh, no problem. See you in there.”

When I turned back to Lucky, his eyes were shining with what I could only classify as mischief and his full lips quirked up. “Single?” he asked. “He’s cute.”

I wondered if Lucky was trained in how to treat a stroke.

Chapter 10

Lucky

I’d never lied to my dads quite this badly before. It was one thing to neglect to tell them about my EMT job at Yellowstone last summer or my paramedic certification this year at school, but it was quite another to tell them I was in Wyoming at Yellowstone while I was secretly in Glacier in northern Montana planning to rappel off a helicopter in flight.

Because of the deception, not to mention the constant thoughts I had about how Zach and I had left things, I carried a low-key nervous stomach all the time. I knew it would be better if I could just tell my parents once and for all what I was doing, but every time I thought I was ready to spill my guts, they’d tell me about Lola’s colic or Danny’s first tooth or which baby was closer to saying “Dada” or any of the other million adorable things the newest members of the family did and I’d conveniently “forget” to tell them what I was up to. Using the twins as an excuse to keep my secrets to myself was awfully convenient. I knew that. But I was too chickenshit to change it.