“You got a flight tomorrow, right?” Dad asked.
“Yeah. Gotta be in Portland at noon.”
My day job, which happened to also be my passion, was flying. I flew helicopters for pretty much anyone who paid my exorbitant fuel costs, and it meant I had not only been able to buy my own rig, I’d also been able to save a nice nest egg over the past few years.
I had also trained in the Bell 412 which were often used to fight fires, and I’d spent some time fighting fires in California a few years ago. I’d been the youngest pilot at the time, and I’d loved every second of the danger.
My parents, however, had not.
“You still good to set up for family night?” Dad asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Not a problem.”
The club hosted a family night once a month and opened its doors to every member and their family. Close friends were also encouraged to attend, so it was usually crowded, and always a good time.
“Are you going to be here for dinner tonight?” Mom asked.
“No. I’m gonna try and talk Tate into letting me take her out.”
She smiled. “Okay, love.”
“I’m gonna head home and grab a shower, then try Tate again.”
“Go easy, darling,” Mom warned.
“I will, Mama. Just gotta make it right,” I said, kissing her cheek, then made my way home.
Three years ago, I’d bought a crappy little ranch on Lakeshore. It had three bedrooms and two bathrooms, a great view of the river and a basement. The bones were good, but the aesthetic was stuck firmly in the eighties. I was young, single, and never took women back to my place, so it was still stuck in the eighties. I just didn’t give a fuck.
Not to mention, I spent most of my time at the club... or my parents’. Walking in now, however, I looked at it in a new way.
Tate would fuckin’ hate it and I suddenly needed to make it better.
* * *
Tate
Ihit bumper-to-bumpertraffic on my way home from my interview, and I cursed Flash for that. It wasn’t his fault, obviously, but I still blamed him. And I blamed him because I was stuck in fucking Portland traffic which meant all I had time to do was think.
About him.
Fucker.
I was on I-5 and in the middle lane, almost to the spot where the HOV lane ended which meant I could get up to a decent speed. However, traffic suddenly came to a standstill.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I ground out.
I saw the red flashing lights and dropped my head back against the headrest just as my phone rang. It was my sister.
“Hey, Hayden,” I bit out.
“That doesn’t sound good,” she said. “I take it you’re stuck in traffic?”
“Yes. You know why?” I growled.
“Why?”
“Fucking bridge lift.”
