“No need to apologize. I know this is going to be a lot, but just like always, communicate with me, okay?”
I nod. “If I’m going to be completely honest, I’m a little nervous to fly. I mean, I’m excited, but I’ve never done it, you know?”
“I do. We’re in good hands. I’ve flown with these guys for years. In fact, they’re the ones who brought me out here.”
Oddly, that makes me feel a little better, but what settles me the most is when Talon takes the seat next to me and his warm hand slips under my shirt to rub my back.
“Is this okay?” he asks, whispering the question that has become second nature to him in my ear as the engines grow louder and we begin to move.
“Yes.”
Part of me wants to bury my head in his lap and not come up for air until we’re in New York, but like always, Talon makes me want to face my fears because that’s where growth is found, and that’s what he deserves from me.
For some reason, whether it be some major glitch in the matrix or a tear in the fabric of fate, this man has chosenme. He wantsme.He’s takingmehome to his family; meanwhile, he doesn’t know that he’s become mine.
So, I sit up straight and force myself to look out the window as we lift into the air.
And I thought the view from Summit was breathtaking.
A couple of hours later,we’re descending, and while I can’t say landings are my favorite, the flight itself was pretty incredible.
Our plane comes to a stop at the hangar, and I notice there’s a car already waiting for us. It’s another sleek black SUV, similar to the one we drove to the airport back in Ricochet Ridge, and another man in a suit opens my door. I smile and say thank you, but he says nothing as he stoically looks ahead.
“I’m not supposed to talk to them, am I?” I ask Talon as I get settled in the backseat. There’s a divider between us and the driver, like I’ve seen in movies, but it’s trippy to see it in real life.
He chuckles. “You certainlycan. Most clientsdon’t, though.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to do something really stupid or say something offensive and accidentally embarrass you,” I admit for the sake of our agreement to communicate clearly.
“Hey,” Talon says, cupping my face when I turn to look at him. “We’re all just people doing the best we can. If you’re ever uncomfortable, let me know, and we’ll leave; no questions asked. As long as you’re you, you could never embarrass me, especially not by being polite or simply having a conversation.”
I nod, unsure how to answer.
As we get closer to the heart of the city, my mouth falls open as my greedy eyes attempt to take in every building we pass. You can look at pictures, but there’s no way you can grasp the architecture, the height, the detail, the colors, or even the sheer number of them from photographs.
“This is…wow,” I breathe, craning my neck as I continue looking up at the structures that surround us.
“A lot of people find it overwhelming, but to me, it’s home,” Talon says, a peacefulness in his voice that wasn’t there inMontana. It’s not until it’s gone that I realize the edge was there in the first place.
Home.
The place he’ll return to when his time at Ricochet is up.
It’s not something we’ve discussed.
Perhaps we should have before now because I’m getting more attached with each passing day. I adore Eloise and am looking forward to meeting the rest of his family, and I know if things between Talon and me don’t work out, I’ll likely never recover from the loss.
But I force the thought from my mind and attempt to focus on the here and now and soak up New York City. My dreams were drowned by that one traumatic night when the stage went from being my escape to my personal hell, but I feel it calling to me again in this place.
Time, physical distance, and Talon’s presence seem to be quite the trifecta of healing.
Talon spends the drive answering texts and emails while I continue processing the sights before me. The traffic is unreal. I’ve never seen anything like it, and people crowd together on the sidewalks, making them just as congested as the streets. Everyone seems to be in a hurry or in their own world, but also hyperaware of those around them, and the city moves together as though everyone is part of the same body.
I feel the pulse of the population, the heartbeat of the city. With each block we travel, I’m dying to get out of the car and let my feet feel the pavement of these streets.
It takes forty-six minutes to travel roughly thirteen miles, and then the car is… stopping, basically in the middle of the street. My door opens, and I eagerly step out. Talon slides to my side and follows me, our bags already waiting on the curb.
Tilting my head back, I look up, but can’t even see the top of the building because I’m standing too close.
