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Epilogue
Ariel Kimber
I Fucking Hate Flying
"Are you sure about this?" Quinton asked me for what felt like the hundredth freaking time.
I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. "No. But we're doing this anyway. It's the safest thing I could think of for them."
Quinton took hold of my hand and weaved our fingers together. I blinked back tears at the sight of our scars lining up side by side. Yes, we were a matching pair now. I'd never felt more at home in all my life. A sense of belonging filled me up inside and plugged some of the holes in my heart.
He squeezed my hand gently. "Your dad is going to be so pissed. At the both of us. I'll get the worst of it though."
Rain wasn't the only one who was going to be madder than hell at the two of us.
"We're going to war," I reminded Quinton harshly. "We have people to protect, and in order to keep them safe, we need them as far away from us as they can get and out of the line of fire. With them near we're vulnerable and weak and they could be used against us at any second. Theyhaveto go. You know this as well as I do. What the others think at the moment doesn't matter, so long as everyone we love is safe."
Safety being the most important thing here. He knew that, so the fact he kept questioning me let me know just how nervous and uncomfortable he was with this situation we now found ourselves in.
Poor Quinton.
I had a feeling he'd never had to put up with these kinds of feelings before I came along and blew up his whole life. Now it was a regular occurrence for the man. I'd apologize if I thought I were entirely to blame for the whole thing, but I knew I wasn't. Maybe I was just being stubborn, but he loved me anyway.
Quinton drew our linked hands into his lap and rested them on his hard thigh. Our hands jostled with each bounce of his knee. Which was constant. I eyed his leg and pursed my lips. I had been far too occupied with the thoughts in my head and staring out the window to notice it before now.
"Are you sureyou'reokay?" I asked quietly. "You're not having second thoughts about doing this with me, are you? If you don't trust me, then there's no point in us doing this, and we'll just go back home and have to figure out something else."
I did not want to do any of that, but I would if it was what he really wanted. But he shouldn't have agreed to come along if he didn't trust me. And if he didn't trust me, then I was going to leave his ass as soon as we landed, because we were past that in our relationship and I would not be putting up with any of that bullshit coming from him.
"I fucking hate flying," he muttered in an angry, hostile tone. "The whole thing is out of my control and that terrifies me. Not to mention I know that when we do get home, the twins are going to look at us as if we betrayed them for a few days because we flew without them. You'd think they'd be afraid to fly, but nope, that's not the case. They're afraid for the people they love to fly without them. I don't understand it, but then again I don't try to understand half the shit that goes on with those two. It would drive me insane to try and figure them out, so I don't even try."
I gaped at him.
Did he just confess to me that he was afraid of flying?
My mouth dropped open as I looked around the space we were in. We were in a freaking airplane, for goodness’ sake. A plane he'd chartered to take us across the country because he'd insisted we not fly commercial like normal people when he could afford to charter a plane for just our party. He'd told me that was what he always did when any of the guys traveled, and if he thought they'd get more use out of it, he'd just buy his own plane, but for now he didn't see the need. Never once did he think to mention the small little fact he was afraid to fly.
Un-freaking-believable.
And so very Uncle Quinton.
Men. Sheesh.
My shoulders shook with laughter I tried to suppress. I snorted and held my free hand up to my nose and mouth, attempting to cover up the noise. I turned my face toward the window and hunched my shoulders as I choked on silent laughter.
I'd thought he'd been so nice when he offered me the window seat. What a gentleman, giving up the view for little ole me, a sweet gesture on his part. He came off as a brash asshole most of the time, but he usually did sweet really well when it came to me, and half the time I never even had to ask for it. This time he'd been covering his own ass.
"This isn't funny," he hissed at me. He tugged on my hand and dragged me back toward him. The view disappeared as my body slid into him and my head whipped around so I could glare at him. He let go of my hand and his arms went around me, landing on my hip. He lifted me up and placed me in his lap.
"There," he muttered, still sounding pissy. "That makes the whole thing so much better."
I shifted on his lap. My legs went over the armrest and I placed my feet on the seat I'd just been evacuated from. My arms slid around Quinton's shoulders and I ran my nails up the back of his neck and into his hair.
"You should have said something to me before we got on the plane," I chided. He expected me to tell him everything, but then went and kept things from me like it wasn't hypocritical of him in the slightest. "There's no shame in admitting your fears to the girl you love. Tit for tat and all of that."
He rolled his eyes. "I like it that you think I'm hot and manly. It hurts my image for you to know all of my fears."
Now it was me who had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Hot and manly, I was so sure.
