She tilts her head slightly, not looking at me but leaning the smallest bit closer, like maybe she’s decided I’m safe. And God help me, that thought wrecks me more than any turbulence ever could.
“Thank you,” she says quietly, gently easing her hand out from under mine.
I shrug, trying to keep things casual. “Don’t mention it.”
“I mean it, Jesse.”
“I know.” I pause, letting a small smile pull at my mouth. “And for the record, you did great. Didn’t scream once.”
Her lips twitch, and that tiny, unguarded smile—it does something to me. Something warm and dangerous.
Madeline leans back in her seat and closes her eyes. I let my eyes sweep over her face: her high cheekbones, the straight slope of her nose, the perfect pout of her lips. We sit in silence for several minutes, until I wonder if she’s fallen asleep. The question is answered a moment later when her head tips slowly toward me. I shift just slightly, letting the side of her head rest lightly against my shoulder, feeling the softness of her hair against my neck.
I glance down at her, the same woman who called me impossible half an hour ago now curled into me like she’s done it a hundred times before. I breathe her in, and she smells like citrus and soap. It’s the kind of scent that sticks to your skin long after she’s gone.
I remind myself to behave, to stop noticing how warm she is, how the edge of her knee brushes mine every time she shifts,how her head fits against my shoulder like she was meant to be there.
But the truth is…I don’t want to stop. I like the way she feels against me. The quiet weight of her trust. The peace that settles somewhere in my chest.
So, I just sit in the stillness. Because for once, in this tiny space thirty thousand feet in the air, with her head resting against my shoulder, I don’t feel restless or impatient.
I just feel right.
THIRTEEN
Jesse
The captain’s voice crackles overhead, announcing our descent. Madeline stirs, slow and drowsy, lashes fluttering, before she blinks awake. A small frown tugs between her brows as she realizes where she’s waking up.
“Oh my God,” she says, sitting up so fast that her seatbelt tugs. “Please tell me I didn’t?—”
“Use me as a pillow for the last hour?” I grin. “Yeah, you did.”
Her cheeks flush pink. “Fantastic.”
“Relax,” I say lightly. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me on a flight.”
“I don’t even want to know.” She groans, dragging a hand over her face.
“You must not have gotten enough sleep last night. You were out cold.”
“I was not.”
“Mads.” I lift a brow, loving how easy it is to rile her up.“You were practicallydrooling.”
“I was not.” Her cheeks go pink. “God, this is why we shouldn’t spend time together outside of work.”
“You should have thought of that before you asked me to be your plus one this weekend.”
“I didn’t,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You offered. Remind me: why did I agree to that again?”
“Probably my charming personality,” I tell her with a shrug.
“Or maybe I had a mini-stroke.”
I laugh at that, and she joins me before she can stop herself. The sound shouldn’t get under my skin the way it does. Just like my body shouldn’t remember the feeling of her leaning into me, trusting me enough to drift off in the middle of a noisy plane. But it does. It really does.
Maybe it’s because I’m not used to being the guy who makes anyone feel safe. That has always been Ford’s role. He’s been holding things together since we were kids, long before he should’ve had to. When Mom got sick, everything fell apart in slow motion. The doctors, the days she spent in bed, the quiet nights when he would sit up with me and Noah and Wes when we were scared of what might happen next.
