Page 29 of My All American Girl

13

SARAH

The moment Ryker told me to ride shotgun, I felt like he’d just pulled the rug out from under me. Seriously, what a joke! All I’ve been dreaming about for weeks is finally getting up in the air, and now he’s taking that chance away from me? What’s his deal, anyway? Is he trying to mess with me? He’s an asshole.

He wanted to humiliate me in front of the others. He was enjoying this. This was him pulling rank and throwing his weight around. He was still pissed about the other night. Yes, I had a problem with authority, but I could usually disguise it a little better. There was just something about him that pissed me off to no end. He made me want to scream in frustration. I didn’t understand why he was constantly around. It was obnoxious.

As he guided the plane out to the runway, I listened to his instructions over the comms, doing my best to keep my annoyance in check. Safety first, I reminded myself, even if it meant swallowing my pride. I sat quietly while he got the clearance for takeoff.

Once we had clearance, I felt the familiar rumble under me as he sped down the runway. My heart pounded in my chest, my excitement drowning out everything else. This was what I wanted, to feel the freedom of flight and the rush of adrenaline as the ground fell away beneath us. I would have preferred to be in the pilot seat, but whatever.

We lifted off and he was smooth, his maneuvers perfect. The plane responded to him like it was an extension of his body. I had to begrudgingly admit he was a damn good pilot. But would he be a good instructor? Would he be able to put aside his ego long enough to teach me? I wasn’t so sure.

We climbed at a rapid pace, going up three thousand feet in a minute. Exhilaration coursed through me. The rush of the wind against the plane, the pull of the G-forces—I loved all of it.

Suddenly, he began a series of high-speed maneuvers, the T6 twisting and turning on his command. I clutched at the sides of my seat. Despite myself, a grin spread across my face. The plane dove toward the ground and then pulled up at the last minute, and I could hear my own ecstatic laughter over our comms.

Then, without warning, he leveled off the plane and looked back at me, his eyes gleaming through the slits of his helmet. His voice crackled over the comms. “Enjoying the ride, Thomas?”

I didn’t want to tell him yes, but I had a feeling my laughter gave me away. “It’s the best.”

“Okay, what do we do next?”

I told him what I would do while he did what I said. We were on a steady flight path, cruising through the air.

And then he turned off the engine.

Panic surged through me. What the hell was he doing? I gripped the edge of my seat, my heart pounding in my chest for an entirely different reason as we started to fall.

“What the hell are you doing?” I demanded.

Ryker remained cool as a cucumber. “What would you do in a situation like this?” he asked. “If your engine stalled or if your plane was damaged, what would your strategy be to stay alive?”

My mind raced as I searched for an answer. “Eject?” I offered.

Ryker shook his head. “No. We have time to correct before we bail out.”

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to focus, to remember the steps I had been taught. Closing my eyes, I tried to block out the rush of wind and the sound of the plummeting plane. I ran through the checklist in my mind, trying to push aside the fear and uncertainty. I could do this, I told myself. I had to do this.

Slowly, steadily, I guided Ryker through the necessary maneuvers. My hands shook with adrenaline as I spoke. The plane leveled out and we regained control. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through me.

In that moment, I realized just how much I’d learned from Ryker. “That was dramatic,” I said.

“Do you think it’s dramatic to bail out of a jet you fucked up? You made a mistake and that’s what has led your jet to lose power. Unless you’ve lost an engine for something completely out of your control, it’s your fault. What happens to the ninety-million-dollar jet? Do you think it evaporates?”

“No,” I replied, swallowing hard. His harsh words were warranted. The gravity of my decision-making during a crisis was more significant than I had ever imagined.

“Exactly,” he said, his voice softened a little. “It crashes. It burns. Lives can be lost, not just yours but the ones on the ground too. An out-of-control jet is nothing more than a missile with a human inside.”

A sense of dread washed over me. I clutched tighter onto my seat. This wasn’t just about me learning to fly—it was also about being responsible for the potential damage I could cause.

Ryker turned back toward the controls and silently began to reset the systems. The sudden quiet was a stark contrast to the heart-pounding chaos of moments before. I could hear my own breathing that was just a little too fast, the hiss and hum of the airplane’s restored systems, and something else—Ryker’s calm, steady exhale as he worked.

He slowly maneuvered the plane back onto our original flight path, his movements precise and calculated. After a few minutes, the plane tilted slightly as he started a controlled descent, heading back toward the runway we’d taken off from just a half hour before.

His little test was the equivalent of being thrown into the deep end with the dude doing the throwing standing on the edge of the pool and waiting to see what happened. I wasn’t sure I approved of his training methods. This was why the dude had the reputation he did. He was a fucking maniac.

The plane touched down on the runway. Relief flooded through me like a tidal wave. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my trembling hands. I’d never been scared in a plane before, but that? That scared the hell out of me.