Page 65 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

24

JANNA

My heart ached for him, for the weight he’d been carrying all this time. The way he’d told that story, like he was confessing to some unforgivable sin instead of describing how he’d risked everything to save people. I could see it in his eyes, the way the guilt had eaten at him, carved out pieces of who he used to be.

The distant sound of the party was jarring now. It was too loud, too cheerful for the raw honesty of what he’d just shared. Someone’s voice carried across the field, and Dalton tensed. His jaw clenched like he was bracing himself against something.

He was starting to shut down. I could feel it happening, the walls going back up brick by brick. After opening himself up like that, letting me see the parts of him that he kept locked away from everyone else, he was probably regretting it. Probably wondering why the hell he’d told me any of it.

I couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not when he’d just given me something so precious and painful.

“Dalton,” I said softly, squeezing his hand. “Show me where you live.”

He blinked, like he was coming back from somewhere far away. “What?”

“Your place. I want to see it.” I stood up, tugging gently on his hand. “I’m tired of all the noise. Aren’t you?”

He looked back toward the party, then at me. For a moment I thought he might refuse, might use it as an excuse to put distance between us again. But then he nodded and let me pull him to his feet.

I was pushing, being forward. I wouldn’t pretend I knew Dalton well, but I knew him well enough to understand he appreciated his privacy. I knew he left the dorm sometimes. No one else did. I understood it. He needed to detach himself. Distance himself from his friends. It was silly and a total girl thing but I wanted to be the one he counted on. I didn’t think he needed to be fixed. Not really. I just wanted to be someone he could trust.

“It’s not much,” he said.

I had a feeling that was bullshit. He was trying to deter me. I wasn’t going to let him push me away. If I did, I doubted we would ever get back to the point we were at right then. I had to push.

And if I’m lucky, maybe I can get the rest of those walls down. And his clothes off.

“I don’t care,” I said, and meant it. I didn’t care if he lived in a cardboard box. I just wanted to be somewhere quiet with him, somewhere he could breathe without feeling like he had to perform for anyone else.

“Come on,” he said.

We walked to the parking lot that was filled with all the extra guests. He opened his truck door for me. I quickly climbed in and felt a shudder of anticipation.

The drive was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Dalton had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console between us. I watched the landscape roll by in the dusk.

The communal living at the airfield was part of the job, but I could see how someone like Dalton would need somewhere to retreat when the walls started closing in. Somewhere he could be alone with his ghosts.

He turned off the main road onto a narrow dirt track that wound up into the foothills. It felt like we were driving into the wilderness, away from civilization entirely.

“Here,” he said, pulling up in front of a small log cabin that looked like it had grown out of the mountainside itself.

It was simple, rustic, but there was something solid about it that felt distinctly like him. A wide porch wrapped around the front, and I could see a stone chimney rising from the peaked roof. I could imagine how cozy it would be in the winter.

He unlocked the door and turned on the lights. I looked around and it was so him. Comfortable. Casual. A leather couch with a matching recliner. A big TV, but not gargantuan. It was clean, tidy, although I had expected as much.

“Want a beer?” he asked. We weren’t on call any longer. Drinks were back on the menu.

I had a feeling I would be spending the night, so I decided to throw caution to the wind. “Yes, please.”

He grabbed a couple cans and handed one to me. “I want to show you something.”

Dalton opened the back door. When I stepped out on the back porch, he leaned in and shut off the lights inside.

“This is where I spend most of my nights,” he said quietly. “The reason I leave the airfield. Sometimes, I just need to be here on my porch looking up at the stars.”

I couldn’t explain what happened to my heart in that moment. It was like it flipped and turned inside out at the same time. I was totally falling for him and that meant I was totally screwed.

He was a hard man. Closed off. Kind of a dick. And yet, I was getting to see who he was. The man behind the mask.