Playing with Mr. Grant (The Men #10)

A few lilies blooming last time I came. But knowing they’re all blossoming now… I can’t miss it.

I head off the path and over the grass, slipping through the line of leafy trees, stepping onto the path at the other side that runs around the perimeter of the lake.

Tears prick at my eyes without warning, and I slam to a halt.

The surface of the water is barely visible beneath the blanket of pink and white. The flowers’ fresh scent hangs delicately in the air.Just like it did that day.

Inhaling, I walk closer to the water, soaking it in. Time has no hold here. If I close my eyes, I can hear my mother’s delighted giggle…. Gramps’ deep voice… my father’s laugh as I splashed him at the edge of the water.

“You’re awake.”

I snap my eyes open, the memory fading. Jet appears beside me, hands thrust into his pockets as he surveys the surface of the lake.

“Did you discuss what you needed to with Mr. Rich?”

His eyes stay on the waterlilies. “Yes. Everything’s sorted. We can leave now.” He clears his throat. “Unless you’d like to stay a little longer?”

“No, I’m good.” My eyes return to the lilies, but I can’t make my feet move.

He rolls his shoulders and there’s a large crack. “Actually… I think I need another minute before I get back in the car.”

I side-eye him, but he’s not looking at me.

“Sure. Let’s stay.” My chest softens in relief. It’s too beautiful to leave just yet.

He rolls his neck this time, and it cracks too.

“That’s bad for your joints.”

“So you tell me. Must be my ancient thirty-three-year-old bones.” He turns toward me, and I feel the heat of his gaze on my cheek. “No age-related jokes? You must still be tired,” he mutters.

“He was thirty-three when he died.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Your father?”

I glance at Jet, then away again. I focus on a flower instead, allowing my eyes to trace over every dip and curve of its perfect petals.

“He was too young to die,” I whisper. “I think about what could have been if… It was caused by pilot error. The press reported on it a lot at the time.”

“I’m sorry, Ava.”

I’m grateful that there’s only a tinge of empathy in his voice. I got used to the sympathetic looks and words cooed over me when I was younger. Hearing them again resurfaces all that pain. I’d rather keep it submerged, blanketed in happy memories of liliesinstead. Hidden in the depths where it doesn’t burn my lungs and sear my heart thinking about it.

“Did you find the flight back from New York easier?”

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation.

“I can only imagine the flight there was the hardest. Your first one since.”

I wrap my arms around myself, pushing away more memories before they can flourish into another sleepless, tear-filled night. “The way home was better… knowing you were the one flying me.”

Seeing any other pilot in that captain’s seat wouldn’t have helped me. But for whatever reason, seeing Jet sitting there did.

“I knew you’d be in control. I knew you wouldn’t make a mistake.” I hide my wavering voice with a quiet laugh. “Because you always win. Just like you told me after dinner with Jones and Carmichael.”

“Ava…”

His soft voice has my chest burning. I turn toward him and finally inch my eyes back up to his face.