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“Lower,” was her vague answer.
He looked too pale. She didn’t like scaring him, so, having pity, she reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back and wasn’t going to let go. B.J. would’ve thought his fingers would be freezing, but they were warm and comforting, and she wanted to hang on forever.
But. . .“Okay, I need my hand back now,” she finally admitted.
He immediately let go, and she wrapped her fingers around the throttle.
The next half hour held some of the most nerve-wracking minutes of her life. The engine kept coughing and wheezing, not getting the gas it needed, and the gauge level kept sinking closer and closer to empty. Her father got back on the radio and started asking for updates more frequently. As B.J. calmly relayed how the steering was getting choppier, she wished Pop would shut up so she didn’t have to say aloud what was going on, letting Grady know how bad things were getting.
When their hangar finally came into view and she could read the large black letters spelling “T. Creek” painted on the silver tin roof, she’d never been so relieved.
“We’re going to make it,” she said and grinned at Grady. . .just as the engine died.
The only sound that followed was the free wind, whistling through the cracks of the aircraft.
His eyes went wide. “Oh, my God.”
“No, it’s okay,” she assured, her voice calm as she held the throttle, nice and steady. “It’s okay. I’ve got it. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’re still going to make it.”
He managed a nod but looked green around the gills. Not that she blamed him. He probably wouldn’t believe her until they actually touched ground.
It wasn’t the smoothest landing she’d ever made, but with shaking hands and no help from her plane, she thought she did damn fine. By the time they stopped skipping down the runway and were slowed to a stop, Grady had his seatbelt off and looked like he was going to leap from the plane and kiss the tarmac. But he stayed rooted to his seat, both hands wrapped firmly around the edge of his thighs as if they might have to be surgically removed.
B.J. tugged off her headphones and undid her safety harness. “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“I’m good,” she said, then let out a whoop of triumph. “God damn!” She leapt across the cockpit and right into his lap. Grady jerked in surprise as she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a brief but hard victory kiss on the mouth.
When she pulled away, she grinned and let out a breath. “Was that great, or what? Oh yeah! It feels good to be alive.”
Ignoring the stunned look on his face, she shimmied off him and threw open the door, already hopping out.
Her father and all three brothers barreled toward her. As soon as her two feet hit the runway, she hurried to meet them, aiming straight for Leroy.
“You could’ve gotten us killed, you jackass,” she snarled, her fists already clenching.
“What?” he said. “You landed just fine.”
Growling, she wound her arm back and decked him full in the mouth, causing his head to snap back.
He cursed and covered his face with both hands. Red immediately seeped through the cracks between his fingers.
Feeling no remorse, B.J. raged, “Next time you’re not going to do something I ask you to, tell me so I can goddamn do it myself.”
“Next time, just do it yourself.” Leroy muttered, wiping blood out of his nose. He took a step toward her, his own hand balling. B.J. widened her stance and braced herself, in the mood to fight.
But Rudy caught her around the waist and pulled her away just as Buck put a hand on Leroy’s chest and stopped him midstep.
“Cut it out, you two,” Pop bellowed.
“She hit me first,” Leroy said, scowling around Buck’s shoulder at her.
“And you deserved it,” Pop stated, getting a defiant sneer for his comment.
B.J. was about to smart back something else to set Leroy off even more when she finally noticed Grady exiting the plane with his bag in tow.
She paused and turned. Still pale as all get out, he hobbled past them. Her innards lurched with guilt.
