“You gonna stare at me the whole flight?” he asked without looking over, “or can I fly in peace?”
“Can’t I do both?”
This time, he did smile. Just barely. “Buckle up, kitten. And try not to distract the pilot.”
The engine roared to life, and my stomach did a weird flip that had nothing to do with nerves about flying. We taxied down the runway slowly at first, then faster, and then Drew pulled back on the controls and we lifted smoothly into the air.
The ground fell away beneath us, Chicago shrinking into a grid of streets and buildings that looked almost peaceful from up here. Drew’s entire posture changed once we were airborne. The tension that usually lived in his shoulders eased. His jaw unclenched. He looked almost…relaxed.
“You look happy,” I said quietly, watching the way his eyes tracked the horizon through his aviators. “Up here in the clouds.”
He flicked a glance at me. “You sound suspicious about it.”
“Not suspicious. Just observant.” I turned to look out the window, watching the clouds drift past like smoke. “I’ve never seen you look this calm before.”
“Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”
“Or maybe you’re only yourself when you’re up here. Away from everything else.”
He didn’t respond to that, but something in his expression shifted. Softened. Like I’d touched on something true that he didn’t want to acknowledge.
We flew in comfortable silence for a while, the steady drone of the engine filling the space between us. I watched the landscape change beneath us—flat farmland giving way to rolling hills, rivers cutting silver lines through the earth.
It was beautiful. Peaceful. And for a moment, I let myself forget about Vance and Rafael and all the lies I’d been juggling. Let myself just exist in this small pocket of safety thousands of feet above the ground.
“Can I ask you something?” Drew’s voice broke the silence, careful and measured.
“Depends on the question.”
“Father Vincent. What are you really hoping to find when you see him?”
I wanted to lie. Should have lied. But something about being up here—suspended between earth and sky, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide—made the truth feel easier than the alternative.
“I need answers,” I said finally. “About my father. About what really happened twenty years ago. Father Vincent knew him. Was there when I was dropped off at the orphanage. He’s the only person left who might be able to tell me something real.”
Drew was quiet for a moment, his hands steady on the controls. “And if the answers aren’t what you want to hear?”
“Then at least I’ll know.”
“Knowledge doesn’t always make things better.”
“No.” I turned to look at him, studying the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the yoke with unconscious competence. “But ignorance sure as hell doesn’t either.”
He nodded slowly, like he understood that on a level deeper than words. Like he’d faced that same choice before and come out the other side changed.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said quietly. “When we land. I’ve got meetings anyway. But Cassandra—” He paused, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. “If you need backup, if anything goes wrong, I’m here.”
The sincerity in his voice made something crack open in my chest. Made me want to reach across the small space between us and touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin and remind myself that I wasn’t completely alone in this mess.
But I kept my hands in my lap and my eyes on the horizon.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and meant it more than I’d meant anything in a long time.
Chapter 11 – Drew
The safe house smelled like old wood and rain-soaked concrete. Nothing fancy, just a two-bedroom setup in a quiet Seattle neighborhood where no one asked questions and everyone minded their own damn business. Exactly what we needed.
I dropped my duffel by the door and watched Cassandra move through the space like she was cataloging exits. Always calculating. Always prepared to run. It made something twist in my chest, sharp and uncomfortable.
