A Lie for a Lie (All In) - Helena Hunting Page 0,7
nice to get away from all the crazy and be at peace with nature, you know?”
“I definitely do. I went to school in Seattle for a year. Well, more like a month. It was a lot.” She shudders and shakes her head. “I’m not from the city. Our town had less than two thousand people, so it was a big change. Cities can be exciting—but scary. Are you from Seattle?”
“I grew up in New York.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there, but it looks so . . . overwhelming.”
“Well, to be fair, I grew up in Upstate New York, which is nothing like the city. It’s pretty rural in some areas.”
“Oh yes, I read that somewhere.”
The pilot informs us that we’re cleared for takeoff. Lainey hugs her mittens to her chest as we head for the runway.
“You okay?”
“I’ve never been on a plane this small before,” she says.
“We’ll be fine. I promise. I’ve done this at least twenty times, and I’ve survived every one.”
Her eyes are wide as she nods, then looks out the window as we gather speed. When the wheels lift off the tarmac, she grips my forearm. “Oh! This is a lot bumpier than the big plane, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. A bit. You’ll get used to it.”
She releases my arm and hugs her mittens again. “Today is actually the first time I’ve ever been on a plane.”
“Really?”
“The first flight was nice. I mean, there was a very old man beside me with a lot of nose hairs who smelled like mothballs, but he was fine otherwise. You’re much nicer smelling than he was.” She blushes again. “Anyway, I guess on a plane this small you feel everything more.”
This woman is such a breath of fresh air. And her innocence is alluring, especially since I’m going to be on my own for the next few weeks. Kodiak Island is fairly expansive, though, so there’s a good chance this short flight is all I’ll see of her. I’m going to make the most of this hour of normalcy. “I can’t believe this is your first time flying.”
“I usually take the train if I go anywhere. But there’s no train to the island, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the long ferry ride, so here I am.” We hit a spot of turbulence, and she makes a squeaky sound, then buries her face against my shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles into my arm. “You don’t even know me, and I’m using you like a teddy bear.”
I laugh. “I’d climb into your lap so you can cuddle with me, but I don’t think I’ll fit.” But she’d sure fit nicely in my lap.
“Sadly, no—you’re kind of huge.” She gives my biceps a squeeze and releases it on a slow exhale.
“What if I just do this?” I slip an arm around her shoulder.
“That’s nice.” She slides a little closer and tucks herself into my side. “That makes me feel . . . safer.”
I’m not sure if she’s flirting with me or just genuinely needs some kind of human contact to abate the anxiety, but I’m enjoying this, so I go with it. “Safer is good.”
“It is,” she agrees.
I spend the next few minutes explaining the geography as she looks out the window, but when we hit another patch of turbulence, her face pales.
“Oh no!” She covers her mouth with her palm.
“You okay?”
She shakes her head but stops abruptly, paling further. “I don’t feel so well.”
I reach into the seat pocket in front of us and pull out the barf bag. I blow into it to open it up and then hand it to her. “Maybe just breathe into this.”
She takes it from me with shaking hands and leans forward, her hair slipping over her shoulders. I gather it up, twisting the soft, silky strands around my hand to keep it out of the way.
And then she barfs. She tries to be quiet as she retches a couple more times. I stroke my thumb along the back of her neck, and her skin pebbles with goose bumps.
With my free hand I search my pockets for a tissue, grateful when I find a handful in my hoodie. They’re crumpled but unused, so I pass them over. Lainey turns her head away and wipes her mouth, dropping the soiled tissues into the bag. She rolls the top over a few times and secures it closed.
I let her hair unfurl from around my hand and run my palm down her back. “You okay?”