Page 48 of The Spare
We’d both settled into the flight and began working, occasionally interrupting the other with a brief conversation or a proactive comment. That was largely Sloan. She was being more forward.
We were working quietly when we hit a patch of turbulence. I didn’t pay much attention to it, but from the corner of my eye, I saw Sloan fidgeting. Looking up from my work, I could see she was shaken; the anxiety was evident in her eyes. Her skin grew pale.
“I don’t love this part of flying.” Her voice squeaked.
“It’ll level out soon,” I assured her, as if she hadn’t flown before. She’d been all over the world, and the turbulence wasn’t all that bad.
She nodded.
I didn’t think much of it, and I went back to work when there was another dip. A bigger one this time.
I looked over to her. Her face held a quiet terror. “Sloan?” I closed my laptop and put it away.
“I used to take something for it but haven’t needed it in a while.” Her voice was shaking. “I thought I was cured.” She laughed nervously, and her chin wobbled as she swallowed hard.
She was trying not to cry. I winced at another hard rattle, less intense this time, but her veneer of calm was crumbling. Pride competed with fear. A kick of protectiveness rattled in my chest. I got up, sat beside her, and felt completely useless.
Dammit, if Xander were here, he would know what to do.
Her hands gripped the seat so tightly that her knuckles were white. I rubbed the top of her hand with my thumb. I watched her closely for the next few seconds as the brief turbulence seemed to have stopped, but as I stroked her hand, I could feel her pulse still racing.
“Well, in the absence of a pill...” I carefully rose, poured a glass of wine from the secured bar cart, and placed it in front of her.
“I don’t want to drink.” She looked at me sheepishly. “I’m worried about what I might say.”
I was a little thrown by her honesty. It made me want to wrap her in my arms. “I can assure you I’ve heard worse.” From her. She cursed like a sailor and was rather handsy the last time I witnessed her drunk.
An unsure smile lifted and fell along her mouth.
“What would Xander do?” I almost begged. Seeing her that distressed pulled on my heart in a way I’d never felt. I needed it to stop.
“He’d tell me things to keep me distracted.”
“What do you want to know?” That was a bad idea. But fuck, I would do just about anything to make her feel better. “No holds barred.”
She paused a few moments in surprise. “You’re going to regret that, Sutton.” She laughed nervously and took a large sip of the wine. Her other hand moved from gripping the armrest to my hand. I clasped it immediately. I never wanted to let it go. “Why did you leave? And don’t tell me it was only work.”
I sighed. I knew this one was coming.
“It was easier than dealing with things I couldn’t control.” It was the truth. I left out the part about what I couldn’t control—my feelings for her. No better way to ignore something than to remove it from your view. A small smile grew on her face. She got the most honest answer to that question so far, and she didn’t press on.
“Do I get a question?” I asked. The plane settled out, and the two attendants brought the bottle of wine over.
“I guess.” She took a sip of wine.
“Do you really want the company?” I hoped the answer was no. “You seem like you’d hate it.”
It was only recently that I realized how much it stuck with her. My meddling with the board affected her too.
She didn’t answer, only shrugged. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Explain it to me.”
She gave a small sigh, closed her eyes, and leaned into the seat.
“You won’t get it because you can’t. Everyone expects you to succeed—you’re annoyingly perfect.” Her eyes opened and met mine. It seemed like the turbulence was forgotten, but I may have made things worse. “For me, the expectation was heinously low. I didn’t get the chance to know if I wanted it.”
The plane rattled again, and she flinched. It had mostly settled out past the small rough patch, but the anxiety was probably in control now. She poured herself another glass and took a large sip.
