Especially if they’re someone I love.
Thankfully our seats are in front of the wing, so that makes things a little easier on me. Idon’t know if that was deliberate on Casey’s part or not, but I’m beyond grateful.
We’re belted in and ready for takeoff when I feel the first tendrils of the pill kicking in.
Declan’s hand brushes against mine, where I’ve got it clamped around the armrest between us. “Are you all right, Sir?”
I nod.
I tune out the safety talk, especially the part where they demonstrate how to put the maskson, and chastise us to put our own mask on first before helping someone we’re with.
I close my eyes, remembering the feel of that mask pressed against my face and the sound of me screaming into it.
How I couldn’t put one on Ellen because she didn’t need it then.
Not until we’re up in the air and I hear the landing gear softlythumpas it tucks into the belly of the aircraft do I finally relax.
Unfortunately, that only lasts for the first thirty minutes of the flight. That’s when we hit a pocket of turbulence and the entire plane bounces and shudders.
We both had our seatbelts on, but the seatbelt light goes on and the captain calls for the flight attendants to secure the cabin and take their seats as another jolts rocks us.
The breath whooshes out of me as I try to shut down the memories.Even with the Xanax in me, even with Declan softly talking to me and reminding me to breathe, it takes every ounce of will I have not to start screaming.
The noise of something shifting in one of the overhead bins close to us becomes abangin my brain, making me jump. I chew on my lip as the screaming wind howls through my mind. I look in front of me, almost expecting to see the emergency masksdrop and dance like ugly, plastic puppets.
“Breathe, George,” Declan softly says, interrupting the cycle, dragging my brain toward him and now and here.
I clench my jaw as we hit another bump. I’m struggling not to throw up, memories of that horrible flight jagged and fresh in my mind once more.
I pry the fingers of my right hand off my armrest and hold it out to Declan. “Hold my hand,” I manage.
“What?”
I swallow to force down the lump in my throat. “Pleasehold my hand,” I whisper. I leave it extended.
It’s a need I…can’t even process right now. Not with all the memories wrapped around the phantom sensation there.
His fingers tentatively wrap around mine.
“Harder,” I hoarsely order.
His grip increases.
“Harder.”
He complies, and I involuntarily gasp as I…feelit.
Her.
Likeshe’sthere instead of him. I both want to remember her and I need to know it’s him.
“Please don’t let go,” I beg as I close my eyes against the tears threatening to break free.
I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve cried so much. Too much.
Ellen wouldn’t want me to cry. She’d want me to go on, to find happiness. She’d scold me to quit taking her death out of his ass, or taking out my anger andgrief on him and Casey.
But it’s so fucking hard.
