“No! Ohmigod, no.” Thank heavens. “And I certainly wouldn’t tell you in the middle of flying and risk unsettling our concentration.”
“Of course. All right.” His exhale filled the headset long and slow before he continued, “This is about the man living with you. There are going to be a lot of broken hearts around the squadron once this becomes common knowledge.”
How did he already know about Rick liv—? “Are there no secrets in this squadron?”
“Afraid not,” he said as he opened his flight bag to pull out his lunch with Beachcombers Bar and Grill stamped across the sack containing a hamburger that smelled too good. “I heard from Bronco that you called his wife since she’s a flight surgeon to get her advice on the best options for rehab in the area.”
Bronco always had been a big ole gossip. He must have spilled all when he called in sick because of his back. Well, this squadron thrived on practical jokes and Bronco was about to be the recipient of a whopper practical joke except she wasn’t feeling particularly funny right now.
“Yes, I have a friend recovering at my place for a while.”
“A PJ.” A parajumper, also known as a pararescueman.
“Yes.”
“Must be hell.”
“Excuse me?”
“Those guys are hard core. He must be going through hell adjusting. You’re a good friend to take in somebody carrying that much baggage.”
“And you sure are one chatty boss.”
A boss she had dated back when their ranks and positions were closer, before he was the head honcho. They’d gone out a couple of times, had fun, but soon realized there simply wasn’t any chemistry. The friendship stuck, though.
Scorch turned to face her full on, the plane skimming through a sky as blue as his serious eyes. “Yeah, I get that you want me to back off, but hell, Bronco’s a gossip and I’m freaking Ann Landers. So here goes. How did you feel when you thought you wouldn’t fly anymore?”
She started to tell him to take a hike, sir, and then…she stopped and thought. If she meant to move forward, she had to stop pushing people away. Scorch truly was a good boss who cared about his people. Beyond that, he knew her well as a friend, in fact knew more about her than most folks.
Yet, she’d never told him about Rick.
Still, she could carry on this conversation without relaying that tidbit.
Deep breath. Leap. “I was so wrapped up thinking I might not even live, the notion of losing my wings wasn’t up front in my mind.”
“Whereas your friend’s mortality isn’t in question since his isn’t a life-threatening illness.”
She nodded.
“There’s no question that this job of ours is more than a job, a calling, service to country, to others above self. Those PJs really push themselves—That Others May Live.”
“Their motto.”
“Think about your cancer, how you fought so damn bravely, but all the while preparing yourself to die.”
Ah. The clue bird landed on her head. “He has prepared himself to die, but never prepared himself to live.”
“And since I’m the boss and know everything, you might want to take those words to heart yourself.”
An image flashed to mind of Rick’s face as they’d driven around base earlier—the hunger in his eyes as he’d stared out at the flight line at the airplanes. Planes he’d once jumped out of to save lives.
Just as her boss had said. She’d faced the possibility of death. But she’d never thought about living—and losing her dream.
Rick faced that nightmare every day, something far less clear-cut in its healing. How could she have been so dense? Hell, she lived with a man who couldn’t face losing his dream. She’d seen how it tore apart her ex-husband watching her put on her flight suit each day.
Rick would help her, but this had to be painful for him in ways he never would have anticipated. And—ouch—that stung her in a way she hadn’t foreseen, either.
Self-revelations hurt as much as any incisions. This healing process just went on and on and on. Sheesh, when would she get to just live a normal day?