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“Easy mistake to make, considering he doesn’t know how to smile,” Panther said under his breath. His words would’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t still engaged in a stare-off with his father.
Captain Hughes raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it obvious why? If I could choose an easier path for Grant, I would’ve. But that’s not within my control, and he’s made it clear that his choices are his own. He chose you. I only wanted to know if you would be doing the same.”
My mouth fell shut. It was clear that Captain Hughes cared about his son and that his words were genuine, even if his expression never changed. Or maybe it was the gruff, direct way he communicated that threw me and everyone around him off. Either way, what he’d just said had made a clear impact on Panther, whose head had lowered.
I squeezed his hand, guilt rising inside me. “I’m so sorry. I thought… I guess I took what he said the wrong way—”
“No.” Panther shook his head. “You may have projected your feelings onto what he said, but he was still giving you a warning.” He turned to his father. “I could’ve lost him because you interfered.”
Captain Hughes opened his mouth to respond, but then thought better of whatever he was going to say and nodded.
“You won’t do that again,” Panther said. “Solo’s not going anywhere, not now, not after graduation.” He squeezed my hand back. “He stays. Understand?”
“I do.”
“And you.” He turned back to me. “Don’t let anyone interfere again. You got that?”
I tried to bite back my grin, but it busted through anyway. “I promise.”
“Good.” He settled back in his chair looking like a weight had left his shoulders, but I still had one thing left to say.
“Captain Hughes? I love your son. I may have fucked—screwed that up royally once, but I won’t do it again.” I brought our joined hands up, resting them on the table. “You said you wanted me to do the right thing, and I’m here to tell you I will. Because the right thing for Grant is me, and like he said…I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”
Panther beamed as I lifted our hands to brush a kiss across his knuckles. I chanced a glance at his father and was shocked to see a hint of a smile.
“Good,” he said hoarsely, and then he cleared his throat. “Well, now that that’s settled, Panther, would you go check on your mother—and Mateo, please pass the rolls.”
32 Panther
THE MOOD WAS tense between the trainees as we headed into the bay area to get changed for the day’s hop. The camaraderie and friendship we’d built during our time together over the past three months was on the back burner as we each thought about what today would bring for us.
Today was the final day of our classes. It was the day we’d find out which one of us was not only the most skilled in a fighter jet, but also the most cunning when it came to making quick in-air combat decisions.
The men and women who entered this course did so with one goal in mind: to come out on top. And while that was still my number one priority, so was getting home safely and starting the next chapter of my life with Solo.
We’d spent the entire morning going over the flight brief with Commander Levy, before he’d given us our final match-ups of the program, and it was no surprise that they’d kept the hardest hop until last.
Today we’d be going up in our original pairings, and tasked with up-close-and-personal dogfighting. During our time here at the course, we’d generally stuck to BVR—beyond visual range—missile training where you got a lock on your kill without them even seeing you. But this up-close shit was a whole other bag of tricks. It was a technique that was all but obsolete in today’s air-to-air combat, but something each of us fighter pilots had to learn on the off chance we found ourselves in a situation where everything had gone tits up, and all we had left to rely on was our quick thinking and maneuverability.
For today’s mission I would be taking lead and Solo would be my wingman. He headed over to his bay to suit up, and I followed close on his heels. He’d been unusually quiet during this morning’s brief, but I could tell by his furrowed brow and set jaw that he was merely processing all of the information we’d been given for this final flight—and there had been a lot.
This kind of combat was the most intense, and essential. It was missions like these that a pilot either excelled at or broke down during, and today we’d find out exactly which side we landed on.
“So, you ready for this?” I said as I stopped outside the bay where Solo was laying out his gear.
