Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,2

in my seat and get ready for a flight across the country.

When we finally do get in the air, the flight is uneventful. I try to hide my boredom, but Robbie sees right through me.

“Not exactly the same as having people jump out of planes, huh?”

I grunt. “You can say that again.”

“You said you started the skydiving business with your friend?” Robbie glances at me, leaning back in his seat.

I nod. “Yeah. A few years ago. Woodvale Skydive was the center of my world.”

“Why’d you stop?”

I shrug. “Shit happens.”

Robbie makes a soft noise in response. “What’s Woodvale like?”

“Beautiful,” I answer. “Really lush, almost rainforest-like. There’s this long strip of cliffs that line the Pacific Ocean on one end of town. I love it there. The summers are incredible. Pretty wet the rest of the year, though. It feels like a different world. When I’m on shift, I stay at the staff accommodations at the Seattle-Tacoma airport and it’s some awful form of torture to know Woodvale is so close but still out of reach.”

“The Pacific Northwest,” he says, smiling. “Nice.” He opens his mouth to add something, then reconsiders. Robbie’s brow furrows ever so slightly as he clenches his jaw, and I know there’s something he wants to say.

He doesn’t, and I don’t pry. One of the many reasons we get along.

We turn back to the console, but I know there won’t be anything for me to do. This plane basically flies itself once we’re up in the air.

If I’m being completely honest, I do miss the smaller planes. Not just smaller planes. I miss my plane. The plane I worked on every day. The plane I painstakingly washed and tucked in the hangar at the end of the day. It was my baby.

Commercial flights are fine. Honestly. They are. But there’s no rush of feeling an aircraft completely under your control. There’s no change in pressure when the roller door opens, and the knowledge that people will start jumping. There are no elated faces at the bottom, waiting to thank me for the most incredible experience of their lives.

Commercial flying is safe. It pays pretty well.

But it’s boring as hell.

I said I liked being tidy—I didn’t say I was dull.

When we make it across the country, I prepare myself for the only enjoyable part of the entire flight. Landing the plane is the hardest part of the whole process, but even that doesn’t compare to the small plane I used to fly at Woodvale Skydive.

I’d never admit this to Finn, or Robbie, or Esme—but I miss it. Desperately.

A bigger part of me is bitter, though. I just can’t, in good faith, go back and work with Finn. He betrayed my trust. He turned his back on me when I was the one who’d always stood by his side. Guess he couldn’t return the favor.

Robbie and I finish up the flight and exit the plane, then take our small roller bags to another flight. His family lives in a small suburb outside New Haven, Connecticut. As we make our way onto another plane—as passengers, this time—I’m grateful to have met my copilot.

He and I have been working together for the past two months. We do the same run from Sea-Tac to Bradley International, and I’ve gotten used to flying with him by my side. In two short months, we’ve spent countless hours together in the cockpit. We’ve grown close. On some level, I think Robbie understands I had to leave the skydiving business, and he’s made it his mission to make me feel at home on our flights.

He’s tall and lanky. With his short, dark hair and thick, black stubble, he would look imposing if he wasn’t smiling all the time.

We take the short flight down to New Haven and finally arrive at our final destination.

As we enter the lobby of the airport, a woman steps through the sliding glass doors. She has a mane of dark, curly hair and a bright smile. She waves in our direction, and my stomach clenches hard.

How would it feel to have a woman like that greet me? To have someone so gorgeous rush toward me? To feel her arms wrap around me and know I’m going home with her?

As she approaches, I expect her eyes to shift to someone behind us. My eyebrows tug together when she shouts Robbie’s name.

I glance at my copilot, popping a brow. He stops, leaving his suitcase beside him as he spreads his arms wide.

The woman laughs, rushing