Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,34

back, ready to smash the barrier to pieces.

But Kit lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “I should go to bed.”

I nod, still gripping the glass of water. “Okay.” The sledgehammer clatters to the ground.

He pads out of the kitchen, pausing at the entrance. His head turns as he hesitates, as if some unknown force is stopping him from leaving.

But after a moment, he lets out another sigh and leaves the kitchen. I stay rooted to the floor until I hear his bedroom door close, then I drop my chin to my chest and let disappointment crash into me.

13

Kit

I might just be trying to avoid Serena, but I slip out of the house before she wakes up. Jumping in my car, I find myself heading for the airfield where I used to work. My fingers drum on the steering wheel as my chest grows tighter, and I try to keep my breaths deep and steady.

I didn’t just use to work here. I existed here. Woodvale Skydive was my whole life. It was my business. My baby. My happiness. It was the place where Finn and I picked our friendship up after years apart and built our dream together.

When I get to the airfield, my chest caves in. Woodvale Skydive is emblazoned on the hangar, with a brand-new logo across the front.

Finn and I had talked about updating the company’s branding. We were going to discuss it together. I stare at the new sign, knowing I have no right to be upset about it, but feeling hurt anyway.

I don’t own any part of this business anymore. I shouldn’t be mad that he followed through with our plans. Still, when I look at the sign, it’s just another reminder that the world keeps turning and I keep standing still.

Gathering my courage and stuffing my emotion deep down, I exit the car and start walking toward the hangar. The door’s unlocked, and I slip through soundlessly. Finn is in the corner, checking the jump gear. He stands up, satisfied, grabs big bags of laundry, and starts pulling out clean jumpsuits, organizing them by size.

When I take a couple of steps closer, he looks up. His eyebrows arch. “Kit.”

“Hey, Finn.”

Dropping the laundry bag, Finn takes a step toward me and then stops. He clears his throat. “How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Chaotic,” I answer with a small grin. Finn tilts his head, and I continue. “Robbie’s Italian. He didn’t warn me there were dozens of them.”

Finn laughs, nodding. “Good food, though?”

“Missed Lydia’s pumpkin pie, if I’m honest.”

“So did I,” Finn shoots back. “She wouldn’t let us touch the damn thing and I’ve been hearing stories about her pie for weeks.”

I laugh, but the sound is drenched in bitterness. He’s probably heard stories about Lydia’s pie from Esme. Because they went behind my back and started dating. Because they broke my trust and refuse to feel sorry about it.

Pushing the bitterness away, I jerk my head toward the laundry bag. “You need help?”

Finn’s lips tug at the corners, and he nods without saying anything. The two of us organize the jumpsuits in silence.

Thoughts swirl in my mind as we stand side by side. My heart tugs.

I miss this.

I miss the smell of the hangar. The feeling of thick canvas jumpsuits between my fingers. I miss my plane. I miss the energy of the skydiving business and the way it felt to give people an unforgettable experience.

Most of all, though, I miss Finn. He was my best friend growing up, and when I came back to Woodvale a few years ago, we picked up right where we left off. Finn was like a brother to me. We worked together, drank together, started a business together—everything.

Then, he had to go and fall in love with my little sister, and it felt like a stab in the back.

Finn puts the last jumpsuit away and turns to me, smiling. “You sure you don’t want to take the plane up? Benji would appreciate a day off.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t want to take his shift. He probably wants the money.”

Finn laughs. “Benji works too much anyway. Harold’s got him working at the garage every day he’s not here, and he keeps talking about taking over from the old man. I think he prefers working as a mechanic than being a pilot, to be honest. Most weeks, he’s working seven days. It’s only one flight. Special winter jump for a guy who wants to propose to his girlfriend.” Finn arches an