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“Just because you can’t fly doesn’t mean you can’t be a part of this business,” Heath insisted with exasperation.
“I am the fucking pilot, Heath.”
Heath waved away my comment and rolled his eyes. “We have other pilots, Cooper. You run this business just as much as I do. And you’re the fucking face of the company. It’s not like I can step into that role.”
I sighed and picked up a pencil from the top of my desk and began twirling it through my fingers. Heath had been injured in a motorcycle accident when he was twenty-five. He’d broken most of the bones in his face, and while the plastic surgeon had done an excellent job repairing it, Heath would always have a few scars and some areas that were slightly misshapen because shattered bones didn’t heal seamlessly. He was still a very good-looking man, but no one had been able to convince him of that. He’d only agreed to open the business with me if I dealt with all the client meetings.
”You know Greg can step in for that shit.” Greg was our COO. He’d worked his way up in the company, and we’d been talking about giving him more responsibility so we didn’t lose him to someone who could offer a promotion. Since I was president and Heath was CEO, there wasn’t really another step up for him.
Heath frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “He can. But—”
“I’m not saying I’m out,” I muttered. “I’m just saying I need some time. I need to adjust to my new reality and decide where my life goes from here.”
“So your answer is to go to the middle of fucking nowhere and hide in the woods?”
Heath’s brow drew farther down, and he watched me warily—as if he thought I would have a meltdown at any moment. I wasn’t having an end-of-life crisis, but not being able to fly crushed part of my soul. I didn’t know how to fill that hole.
“Not hiding,” I disagreed. “But I don’t have a rational explanation for my decision either. I just need to be there, for a while, at least.”
Heath rubbed his hands down his face and muttered, “She won’t be there, man. She’s not real.” He was the only one with whom I confided the full details of my accident.
I scratched my head and stared at the wall thoughtfully. “I may have dreamed up the part about some kind of Valkyrie flying in and saving my life, but I had to have seen that face somewhere. And the only way I can think of to either get her out of my head or find out what the hell happened, is to go there.”
Heath nodded in reluctant acceptance. “Do what you gotta do, man. Just promise me you’ll talk to me before making any major decisions.”
“It’s half yours. I would never make decisions about the business without consulting you.”
Heath pointed a finger at me and grumbled, “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Decisions about your future.”
Yeah, I knew, but I’d deliberately talked around it. I couldn’t promise anything because I had no idea what was next for me now that I couldn’t fly.
“You’ll still be able to reach me, and I’ll check in once in a while.”
Heath rolled his shoulders and moved his head from side to side, trying to loosen some of the tension in his muscles. Then he sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Cooper.”
As frustrated as he was, I could see that his sentiment was genuine.
“Me too.”
The next day, I rented a cabin in the forest where the campers had found me. And here I was, two weeks later, wondering if Heath had been right to be worried and I’d actually lost my mind.
I climbed out of bed and stretched before walking across the cold wooden floor to the bathroom. My eyes drifted over to the small desk situated under a large picture window. The cabin was technically a big studio, but it had been arranged to make it feel more like two rooms. The sleeping area was a large alcove with a dresser, bed, and two nightstands. The living area had two couches, a desk, and the kitchen space with a table and chairs.
The desk was where I spent a good deal of my time.
I dragged my gaze away and forced myself to enter the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, I was showered and dressed, and I headed to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.
But that fucking desk stole my attention again, and my feet wandered toward it of their own volition.
A neat stack of used papers was on the left side, and on the right was a pencil and a pad of fresh art paper.
Drawing had been a hobby for me since I was a kid. However, I’d never felt the need to put my pencil to paper until now.
I dropped onto the desk chair and scooted it in, then grabbed an empty sheet of paper. After smoothing it out on the table in front of me, I picked up one of the graphite pencils. My gaze lifted, and I stared out the window in front of me.
Instead of lush greenery, blue sky, and sunshine, I saw a face. With a mind of its own, my hand began to move over the paper. The only sound in the room was my even breaths and the scratching of the pencil as it created a mirror image of the woman I saw in my mind.
When I finally set down the pencil, I got lost in her eyes. The picture blurred, then sharpened several times, pricking my temper. The inability to stay in focus was the major issue with my eyesight. Whenever I was staring at the face of my dream girl, and my eyes pulled that shit, it just reminded me that the whole thing could’ve been concocted as a defense mechanism. A way to explain what happened since I couldn’t come up with any logical timeline of events. But if the impossible was true, maybe the doctors were wrong, and my eyesight would eventually heal.
