Flight Risk (Antiques in Flight) (14 page)

“Put your legs around me,” he instructed in a voice she had never heard. It was dark and authoritative and pretty much the sexiest thing ever.

She wasn’t used to following orders, but she was pretty sure she’d do just about anything for that voice.

When she hooked her legs around him and he lifted her off the ground, it was kind of hard to catch her breath. Until they crashed into the long table full of random rusty airplane parts.

Parts rattled onto the ground, Trevor all but dropped her, and she awkwardly found her footing before falling on her ass.

A laugh bubbled up through arousal as she found her balance by gripping the table. “Well, shit.” But his hands were on her again, on her waist, pulling her back into him and any laughter was forgotten. “Hold on a sec,” she muttered, narrowly missing stepping on a few pointy screws.

“I know, I know.” His hands dropped from her waist and he stepped away, strangely agitated. “You’re going to say we shouldn’t do this because it’ll wreck our friendship and I’m leaving in a few months and—”

Shocked at the sudden change in everything, and that he was putting words in her mouth, Callie stood where she was and put her hands on her hips. “Actually, I was going to say we need to be careful or one of us will need a tetanus shot.” She gestured at the mess around them and watched as he looked at it, his eyes refocusing on something other than her.

When he looked up at her, eyes dark and intense and so incredibly blue, she let out a long, steadying breath. She could practically read his mind. And his mind was shouting
abort.

Without a shadow of a doubt she knew Trevor was about to pull the rug out from her. Again.

“Callie.” Trevor looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were so dark they almost weren’t brown anymore, her chest heaved, and she looked as though she was trying to rebuild that wall between them. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands gripped the table behind her.

Such a fucking mistake. He couldn’t get that message across to the rest of his body, but his mind knew this had been a mistake.

“I know. What you said. It’s true.”

But her voice wasn’t steady and her eyes searched his for some kind of answer. Some kind of rebuttal.

He didn’t have one, but he did have the truth. If they didn’t get it out now, then this type of thing would keep happening until they ended up in bed together or never speaking to each other again. The former was extraordinarily enticing, but what he really wanted, needed was Callie in his life. Not Callie as some kind of fling.

Trevor took a deep breath and framed Callie’s face with his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She was confused for a moment and then she tried to look down, but he couldn’t let it be that easy. She deserved more, and she had to see it not just hear it. “Believe me when I say there is a part of me that would like nothing better than to finish what we started.”

“Yeah, that part is called your dick.” When he didn’t even crack a smile, she shrugged a little, tried to wriggle away. “Jeez. It was a joke.”

“I don’t want to joke. I want to be honest. I want to…” God, he
wanted
to kiss her again. To feel the soft expanse of her skin. He
wanted
to take her clothes off slowly and…

Trevor closed his eyes, tried to erase the images careening through his mind. “I want to explain because I don’t want things to be weird between us again.” He reopened his eyes. “You mean too much to me for us to go down this road. Because, bottom line, I’m leaving.”

She wiggled again, but he held firm and she stilled. “I get it, Trevor. Really.” Her eyes refused to meet his.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say this.” He waited and waited until she finally met his gaze again. “I don’t want to be the one that hurts you. Maybe that’s egotistical of me to think I could, but I don’t want to be the one who walks away and leaves you hurting. I’ll have to walk away, Callie. You know that.”

“Yes, I know.” Her voice was soft and it caused him to gentle his hold, to brush the pads of his thumbs across her jaw.

“Don’t,” she said, a slight crack to her voice, and that hint of vulnerability was the only thing that had him dropping his hands.

She took a step away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. Like magic, she pulled herself together, hiding all the little chinks in her armor, all those pockets of vulnerability, and suddenly she was Callie standing in front of him. Strong, invincible, in charge, and he wobbled in her shadow.

“Now, brace yourself, Trevor, because I’m going to be really honest here.” She tried to smile to lighten the mood, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It didn’t reach anything. “You could hurt me.”

She let that hang in the air for a minute, her eyes holding his, her hands clutching her arms as if that was her grip on strength.

“Callie.”

“So, you’re right. We can’t do this because I’m starting to think I’m finally getting to a point where I can heal. Finally getting to a point where I
want
to. I think that means letting myself have a real relationship if the right guy comes along.”

Something clutched in his heart, but was immediately gutted by her next words.

“You’re not the right guy, Trevor.”

He should nod and accept that, but he couldn’t. He had to know it wasn’t that simple. “Because I’m leaving.”

She stepped toward him and traced his hairline with her finger before she met his eyes again. “Because I’m Pilot’s Point.” She dropped her hand. “And you’re not.” Flat. Final. Sure. He wished he could feel any of those things, mostly sure.

He took her hand in his, squeezed. “Is it pathetic we’re letting addresses keep us from doing this?”

She shook her head almost vehemently. “No. They aren’t just addresses. You’re FBI through and through, and without AIF, I’m nothing. It’s more to us than
just
. It’s who we are.”

He swallowed and when she pulled her hand away, he let it fall, let the connection end. For the first time in his whole life, he wished he could be Pilot’s Point. He wished he could stay.

Chapter Nine

Trevor jammed his thumb against the remote. Some crappy teenage girly music blasted from upstairs. Outside, the weather reflected his mood. Dark, windy, the threat of rain and thunder in the distance.

The windows were open and he knew he should shut them, but the smell of an impending spring storm kept him from completing the action.

He’d lived in Seattle for four years, but it had never become home. That was okay; he hadn’t been looking for a home. Staying in Pilot’s Point held no appeal, but there were things he’d missed about it, things that felt comforting now.

Spring thunderstorms. Fresh Iowa corn on the cob. Callie.

The crux of his shitty mood. He couldn’t get the taste of Callie out of his mouth, the memory of her long, lean body pressed against his, or the fact he’d been the one to back away. Again.

Everything he’d said to her had been the God’s honest truth. Just the thought of hurting Callie had his stomach cramping painfully. He didn’t want to be the one who walked away from her willingly after all she’d lost so unwillingly.

So he’d backed away, when it had been the last thing he’d wanted to do. Things remained fine between them. Normal. Except for the fact every time he saw her, heard her voice, or thought about her, images and sensations of that basement moment flooded his mind.

Then his thoughts would run toward the dangerous. Because there was a problem he hadn’t figured out. He was leaving whether or not they were sleeping together. Whether or not there was more beyond friendship. He was leaving. What was the point of staying apart?

Not hurting Callie, and maybe not hurting himself. Hell, if he could always remember those two very important pieces of information.

Thunder boomed and he raised his beer in a silent cheers to it. He wanted a storm that would shake the windows, that would pelt rain down on the earth and slash the sky with lightning. He wanted something to feel more out of control than himself.

Shelby’s horrific music finally shut off, followed by the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. He watched her come down and couldn’t quite understand how his baby sister had turned into a woman.

A woman who was as mysterious to him as the woman who’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember.

“Hey,” she offered, walking in front of the TV screen.

He didn’t return a greeting. Instead, his bad mood leaked out. “Do me a favor when you go back upstairs? Put your headphones on so I don’t have to listen to that shit.”

Shelby rolled her eyes before disappearing into the kitchen. She returned with a bag of chips and plopped next to him on the couch. “We need to talk about graduation.”

“What about it?” He had no desire to talk or think about graduation, about that big event everyone should have their parents for. It made him think about the future. Weddings, babies and all the things and ways he’d have to play parent to his little sister. The pressure built in his chest, and he tried to chase it away with another swig of beer.

He was leaving her too. Taking away something from Shelby by not staying in Pilot’s Point, especially when it was so obvious she wanted him to. But, he couldn’t live with all those demands choking him. No amount of thunderstorms would take away that heavy weight in his chest every time he thought about all he was now responsible for.

A scarier thought snuck its way into his mind. What would change if he went back to Seattle? Would that weight disappear? Or would it still be there? Every time she came to visit during break, every summer she would hate being away from her friends, stuck with him.

“I have two tickets. I gave my other two to Dan, but I thought maybe you’d want to bring someone.”

Trevor tried to focus on her words, tried to push the other thoughts out of his mind. “Bring someone?”

“Yeah, to keep you company.” She crunched into a chip, didn’t look at him. “Graduation is so long and boring. Maybe if you brought Callie you’d have someone to talk to.”

Trevor leaned forward and tried to get a better look at her face. “You’re suggesting I bring Callie to your graduation?”

“Sure. It’s not like I’ll have to hang out with her.”

Who was this woman? Why couldn’t he read his own sister? Frustration melded with guilt to produce an even heavier weight. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing is with me.” She looked over at him defiantly. “What’s with you?”

Because he didn’t want to answer the question, he polished off the bottle of beer. “Will it bother you if I sit here and get shitfaced?”

“Does it matter if it bothers me or not?”

It surprised him she thought her feelings had no meaning to him. It squeezed his heart to see her terrible effort at apathy. “Yeah, it matters.”

She straightened a little, looked at him considering. “Then, yeah, it would. If you expect me to handle my problems without alcohol, you should set the example.”

Guilt made the self-pity bubble up and over. “I never had to set an example for you, Shelby. You came out perfect.”

“You’re wrong,” she said quietly. “Mom always told me I had to be like you.”

“Mom always told everyone to be like something or someone else. Never could satisfy that woman.” It was the first time he’d ever vocalized anything remotely negative about his mother since she’d died. He felt like shit for it, but it was true.

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

He jerked his shoulder, his hands itching for another beer or ten. “Whatever.”

“She was trying to make us better people,” Shelby continued, her voice earnest as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

“It worked, didn’t it? We’re decent people. Smart, talented and successful. But it kept me way the hell away. So far away I couldn’t even be here when she—”

“You didn’t know.”

“Does it matter?” Nothing seemed to matter. Hurt was blooming in his chest and he wanted it gone. He wanted to
be
gone.

“You came. You’re here.” After a long pause, she rested her hand on his arm. “It matters.”

Trevor sat there for a long moment, looking at his sister’s hand on his arm. She was trying to comfort him. Maybe it did a little to wash away some of that guilt.

“Dan really likes baseball.” Shelby gestured at the TV screen. “You should talk to him about it sometime.”

Trevor sighed. Time to lighten the mood. Let go of all the angst eating away at him. He’d focus on Shelby. On her life. “You really like the kid, don’t you?”

“I guess.” She tried her hand at apathy again and failed miserably as her mouth curved into a smile. It did more to ease the pressure, the ache. She was happy. He wasn’t ruining everything. At least not yet anyway.

Trevor stared at the TV, then the empty bottle in his hands. “I like him too. He’s a good kid.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop trying to scare the crap out of him?”

“Nah, best laughs I’ve had in a long time.” Trevor was surprised to find he could smile, he could tap into that sense of enjoyment he got from messing with Dan’s head.

“Jackass.”