The Moment of Letting Go - J. A. Redmerski Page 0,80

won’t lie to her. Kendra has—and maybe she still does; hell if I know, or care anymore—had a thing for me since about four months ago. I can’t deny that.

I just can’t explain it, either.

Because, like Kendra, the situation is painfully complicated.

NINETEEN

Sienna

After a long drive, we pull into the lot of a building with a big wooden helicopter tour sign. My blood becomes acidic and begins to rush through my veins like a raging river. I swallow hard and press my hand to my chest, trying to find my heartbeat, only to realize the reason I can’t feel it is because it’s beating way too fast, undetected like the wings of a hummingbird. The drive here was filled with conversation and laughter and Luke saying the simplest of things that always somehow managed to make me blush or smile—I was having such a great time—but now I’m beginning to wonder if it was all just to prepare me for this moment.

“What are we doing here?” I ask somberly, unable to take my eyes off the sign as we pull into a parking space. It’s obvious what we’re doing here, but surely he knows that what I’m really saying is, Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m getting on a helicopter.

Luke shuts off the engine, breaks apart his seat belt, and turns on the seat to face me. As always, his smile alone is enough to calm me down, but this time it’s not enough to make me get out of the car.

“Imagine seeing Kauai from the air,” he says. “Imagine the photos you can take that you’ll never be able to take from the ground.”

“I’m fine with taking photographs from the ground.”

He smiles and regards me quietly for a moment.

“You got on the plane,” he says to make a point, “and you sat by the window—”

“Yeah, but this is much different,” I argue.

“You’re right, it is,” he says. “It’s a sight that you’ll never forget, and if you do it once, I guarantee you that you’ll want to do it again.”

I highly doubt that.

I shake my head and face forward, peering out the windshield.

“I got on the plane,” I say in a quiet voice, “but this is so much smaller, and I dunno, Luke, but I might feel claustrophobic in something like that and freak out worse.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“No …” I admit.

“Then you won’t freak out because it’s smaller.”

That was an excuse, I know, and he probably does too.

I feel the warmth of his hand on my bare thigh and I turn away from the windshield and look at him, his hazel eyes filled with everything that threatens to make me trust him: protection, unimaginable strength, adoration. A part of me really does feel like nothing could ever happen to me with him at my side, but still it’s not enough to quell the fear.

“OK, think about this,” he says, switching gears. “Helicopters are safer than planes, in my opinion, because the pilot can set them down just about anywhere with a flat surface. He can lower it to a safer height if he has to. A helicopter can hover in one place. An airplane, although generally safe, can’t do any of those things.” His strong fingers curl around my unsteady ones. “If you can get on a plane, you can get on a helicopter.”

What he said makes sense, and I think on it heavily. I think about my camera in the backseat and of the beautiful shots I could capture. I would love to expand my portfolio, to go on to the next level and see and shoot things I’ve only ever dreamed of. But more than anything, I really do want to break this fear. And for the first time in my life I’m in the presence of someone who truly understands it and seems to want nothing more right now than to see me free of it.

His lips fall on the corner of my mouth and my heart pounds against my ribs. I turn slowly to face him, our noses almost touching. I get lost in his eyes as they search mine and then he kisses my lips softly, causing my eyelids to become heavy with a warm, relentless tingling sensation. “You can do this, Sienna,” he whispers. “Fear is just the part of you that wants you to fail. It’s all of your regrets and your pain and your failures wrapped up into one emotion. It’s a weakness, nothing more.” Slowly I open my eyes and