Page 5

“Sorry,” I say automatically, starting to pull back.

His fingers tighten once before releasing me completely. “You don’t have to apologize.”

I laugh quietly, more nerves than humor. “That was crazy.”

“Turbulence can be scary,” he says, his smile revealing white, even teeth.

I attempt to smile back but can’t quite manage it. T

he adrenaline hasn’t settled. I can still feel it coursing under my skin, electric and unstable, making everything feel too intense. The warmth of his shoulder beside mine, the soft rasp of his voice, the fact that I’m suddenly very aware of his hands.

This is what panic does, I tell myself.

Temporary insanity.

Except I don’t feel panicked anymore.

I feel reckless.

Which might actually be worse.

I don’t want to go back.

The thought lands fully formed, undeniable as the adrenaline dances inside me.

Not just because of Maggie. Because of everything. Because Redwood Run is a version of me I left behind. A life I outgrew. A place where I was… smaller and less in control.

Going back feels like undoing years of careful construction.

Another dip hits. Less severe this time.

I exhale, my knuckles white as I grip the arm rest.

“You good?” he asks after a moment.

I huff out a brittle laugh. “I think so…”

The plane drops again then lists sideways, violently enough that a startled sound tears out of me before I can stop it. My hands come up without thinking, catching against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as my body pitches toward him.

Too close.

There’s no space now.

No distance between us.

My breath is uneven, too fast, and I’m acutely aware of everything all at once. His hands wrapping around mine, the solid, comforting feel of his body, the scent of sandalwood.

The heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt.

I close my eyes, and the world narrows, noise dulls, and all I can feel is this. Him.

I know I should move, should create some distance before this turns into something I can’t explain later, but I stay exactly where I am.

I open my eyes. My gaze lifts, too quickly, too close, and I meet his.

My grip on him tightens, not from fear this time, but from an unexplained heat that darts through my whole body.

My breath catches, and I don’t even recognize myself in the impulse that follows.