Page 1 of My All American Girl

1

SARAH

“Sarah Marie Thomas!”

My name echoed from the loudspeakers, and it was my turn to go up on stage. Pride filled me, along with the wild fear that I might stumble and fall face first in front of all my classmates.

With careful steps, I took my moment and strode across the stage. In my crisp blue uniform, I hoped nobody could see how sweaty I was through the fabric. Graduation day at the Air Force Academy in Colorado was something I had been looking forward to since I was a little girl. Years of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice were paying off. But the pressure?

It was cooking me alive.

I smiled for the camera and continued down the stage steps, my shoulders back and my chin held high. The applause from the crowd had me grinning wider. I’d always thrived in a pressure cooker.

“We did it,” Maddie, my best friend, leaned over and whispered in my ear. She gave my ribs an eager jab with her bony elbow. “I can’t believe we did it!”

We had been through it all together—the early morning drills, the rigorous academic courses, the grueling physical training. And now, as we gazed out at the sea of faces in the audience, I couldn’t help but feel like I was standing on the edge of something big. Something epic, even.

This moment was the beginning of my career in the Air Force.

Somebody pinch me.

I stood quietly and watched the rest of my classmates take their turn in the spotlight. As the last of them received their diplomas, the final notes of the graduation march faded away. The ceremony ended with speeches from decorated generals, marking the end of our time at the academy and the beginning of our careers in the Air Force.

Maddie shot me a giant grin and we ripped off our caps and tossed them as high as we could. Tassels danced in front of the blue sky before the caps descended back to earth. Family and friends cheered for us, but their cries were just background noise to the roar of pride thundering in my ears.

Maddie threw her arms around me and jumped up and down, jostling me. When she pulled back, she had joyful tears in her eyes. “I’m proud of us,” she said.

“Me too.” Laughing, I ran my fingers over my slicked-back hair that was pulled into a knot at the base of my neck, just like all the other female cadets. I rose to the tips of my toes and peered over top of the crowd, searching for the one face I wanted to see most. “Where is he?”

Maddie searched as well. She had a good few inches of height on me, so she spotted him first, spun me around, and pointed me in the direction of my biggest supporter. “There,” she said, nudging me. “Go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

I spotted him standing near the front, surrounded by a group of my teachers, his uniform heavily decorated with all the service ribbons of his prestigious career. With a grin plastered on my face, I made my way toward him, my heart pounding with excitement.

“Dad!” I called out, unable to contain my joy.

He turned toward me, his eyes shining with pride. “Sarah!” He pulled me in for a bear hug that squeezed all the air out of my lungs.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, his deep baritone voice rumbling in his chest. “We’ve worked so hard for this moment, and you deserve every bit of success that comes your way.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I hugged him back, feeling a surge of gratitude for everything he had done for me. And yet, a thought teased the back of my mind. I’ve worked so hard. Not we.

It wasn’t nepotism that got me here. I busted my ass to get into the academy and I was the one that pulled the grades. I did it without him. Yes, I had his name, which had a lot of weight behind it, but that didn’t mean I got a free pass at any of it. If anything, I had to work that much harder.

“I want you to meet some of the people who helped shape you into the person you are today,” he said. “As people, not your teachers.”

He introduced me to each of them. I smiled gratefully, shaking their hands and exchanging pleasantries. But then, as I turned to face the last person in the group, my breath caught in my throat.

Standing before me was him. The most impressive fighter pilot in the Air Force. I had heard countless stories about him during my time at the academy. I even had a poster of him hanging in my old bedroom back home. A dreamy poster, I might add. Tom Cruise had nothing on the man before me.

Dean. Freaking. Ryker.

No way. No way. No way!

Dean held out his hand for me to shake. Hurriedly, I wiped my sweaty palms on my uniform and took his hand. His lips curved in a kind smile that softened his features but didn’t take the sharpness out of his gaze. I managed to smile back at him, having to tip my head back to look up. He was so much taller than I expected. How did he fit comfortably in a cockpit?

Dean had been the youngest of his class and of all the classes after him, to do, well, anything. His expertise in a fighter jet was unmatched. Everybody in my class wanted to be like him. Or have him all to themselves.

I couldn’t imagine if I had been in class with him. I would never have gotten anything done. He was the kind of dude girls daydreamed about to the point of total distraction. I would have been hopelessly doodling his name in my flight schedule and flunked in weeks.