Page 32 of The Flight Risk

Her playful tone turns agonizing. “Why don’t you want me? You haven’t touched me.” I am temporarily confused because my hands were all over her tonight. But then she says, “I have wanted you to touch me since that kiss. I’m begging you to touch me, Oakley.”

If she only knew how much I want to touch her like that again. But not tonight. Not like this. “I don’t…”

She presses her face into the pillow and muffles, “I knew it.”

“Hey, look at me.” She shakes her head like a child trying to hide. I laugh. “Tess.”

Her tired, drunk eyes finally meet my fully sober ones.

“Not tonight. I don’t want you to be this drunk when I do touch you like that again.” Her eyes get a glimmer of hope in her drunken gaze. “Because trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to. I want to. Very much. Just not right now.” I play with a strand of her long hair. “Okay?”

She nods and I take a deep breath. I don’t know if she’s going to remember this tomorrow, but I do it anyway–I kiss her forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I close my bedroom door behind me and hit my head softly against the wood panel. I’m falling so hard for Tess Lewis and even though I can’t always read social cues correctly, I have a feeling she’s falling for me, too.

18

“How are you liking Romeo and Juliet?” I ask a very sullen, very bored Lottie at the kitchen table. The soapy water circles down the drain, mimicking Lottie’s interest in this classic piece of literature. Shakespeare would be so disappointed.

“I can’t believe this is considered a love story to some people. This is depressing.”

“To be fair it is titled, The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. He gives you a bit of a warning.”

“Doesn’t make it any less depressing,” she mumbles.

I let out a laugh. “I get you. It wasn’t my favorite Shakespeare play either. My favorite is Much Ado About Nothing. It’s a comedy.” I rinse the final bowl from dinner and place it in the dishwasher. I spray some disinfectant on the counter and vigorously wipe down any evidence of the mess I made in Oakley’s pristine kitchen.

“I have to write a stupid essay on if the love was real or an infatuation,” Lottie complains. “They were so young. I don’t think that once-in-a-lifetime love exists. I think it’s always a fleeting infatuation.”

My stomach sinks because as much as I want to contest that statement, a large part of me agrees with her. I’ve never known a love that stands the test of time. At least, I’ve never experienced that. To be fair, I’ve also never allowed it to happen in the first place. Better to keep my heart safe, even with all the devastating cracks from my childhood, than allow it to fully shatter into a million little pieces.

“Then go with the infatuation route,” I encourage her, stepping out of a downward spiral I don’t want Lottie to see. “If that’s how you truly feel about their relationship, then go with that. Just make sure you have enough evidence to back it up.”

“I already wrote down some quotes that I can possibly use.” She taps her pencil on her open notebook. Her leg is bouncing up and down as she begins to bite her thumbnail, clearly nervous. “I know you are planning on watching the Storm game, but do you mind helping me with brainstorming the explanations, Aunt Tess?” There is some hesitation in her voice. I have an inkling that she doesn’t usually ask for help. She feels like a burden to the people around her, even though she doesn’t need to feel that way. She’s fourteen years old–she shouldn’t have to deal with all the bullshit she’s been dealt so far in her life. She should just be worrying about school and friends and band and who she has a crush on. Not whether or not she is a burden.

“Of course. I didn’t even know there was a Storm game tonight.” I say, lying through my teeth, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible. I was kind of hoping to watch Oakley kick ass like he always does, but this is more important. I’d rather distract myself with the infatuation of Romeo and Juliet than my own infatuation with a hockey goalie that I had a hot make out session with and who has shown a protective, dare I say, possessive side that I witnessed at the rooftop bar the other night. An encounter we still haven’t really talked about.

Lottie narrows her eyes as I take the empty seat next to her. “Sure, you didn’t.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks and my ears get hot, feeling exposed by a teenager about my very real feelings for the man we are currently living with. I should get an award for how much self control I’ve had to exercise these past few weeks.

A couple hours later, Lottie finishes up her essay, which thankfully only had to be 500 words. I pour myself a glass of wine and grab the remote. I’ve been on a real Modern Family kick lately and need a good laugh after talking with Lottie about the intense and tragic love of teenagers during the Renaissance. Pippa snuggles up next to me and I give her a kiss on the nose. I seriously don’t know what I would do without her. She came into my life when I was at my lowest and has seen all the different versions of myself. The good, the bad and the ugly. She never once judges me or holds me to an impossible standard. She loves me unconditionally. She is really the only true love I’ve ever known. I cup her sweet little face and lean in closer. “I don’t deserve you.” She proceeds to lick my nose and her tail wags uncontrollably. My heart swells as I click on the play button.

I am halfway through an episode and fully out of wine when the door unlocks.

“Hey!” I say without turning around. Be cool. Pretend like butterflies didn’t immediately erupt in your stomach. “How was the game?” Pippa jumps down from her spot next to me to go greet him, warmth immediately leaving my left hip.

“We won,” Oakley replies. “Hey, Pippa.” I love the way he greets my dog. Like she’s his.

“That’s great! Did you have a shut…?” I turn and finally see Oakley. He’s limping. Shit. I quickly place my empty glass on the coffee table and jump up. “Oakley, what the hell happened?”

“I take it you didn’t watch the game? Ouch.” He winces as he drops his duffle.

I walk over to him. “I didn’t get a chance to watch. I was helping Lottie with her English paper.”

His eyebrows are drawn together. He’s in a lot of pain. I haven’t been around him that much, but I’ve been around enough men when they’re trying to mask pain. I swear it’s like a factory setting with them. This is the most unsteady I’ve ever seen Oakley. He’s always so poised and it seems as if nothing in the world could ever throw him off his steady axis. He’s trying to reel it in, but it’s not working.

I touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”