Chapter 2

I didn't go to dinner that night.

A transit aircraft in the hangar had reported an oxygen-system fault, so I stayed to troubleshoot it.

The space beside the cabin door was tight.

I crouched on the floor with a flashlight between my teeth, tracing wiring behind a panel.

A sharp metal edge sliced across the back of my hand.

Pain flashed through my knuckles.

Blood welled instantly.

I kept turning the screw.

The hangar door opened.

Footsteps came up behind me.

Ethan crouched down and took the tool from my hand.

His expression tightened.

"You're bleeding. You didn't notice?"

I didn't look at him.

I reached for the tool.

He moved it out of reach, opened my toolbox, and reached into the bottom compartment.

He pulled out antiseptic wipes and gauze.

Only he knew I kept them there.

My first year at NorthStar, an older mechanic had made my life hell.

One night, after a sixteen-hour shift, I'd sat on the ramp beside my toolbox, too angry and exhausted to move.

Ethan had run over from the flight building and crouched in front of me.

He wrapped my cut hand himself.

Back then, he had said,

"You keep the airplanes safe. I'll make sure you feel safe."

When I studied for my A&P certification, he stayed up with me until after midnight.

He drew engine-system diagrams across an entire whiteboard wall.

The first time I signed off a major maintenance job on my own, he was more nervous than I was.

He waited outside the hangar with hot coffee and breakfast and told me my name would show up on more and more maintenance records.

Those memories weren't fake.

Ethan wrapped fresh gauze around my hand.

His movements were gentle.

"The awards ceremony was Corporate Communications' call. I didn't control that."

I studied his face.

"If you couldn't control the award, how did you control my transfer?"

His hands stopped.

"You're the mechanic I trust most. You shouldn't gamble your career because you're upset."

Before I could answer, the hangar door opened again.

Riley walked in carrying a takeout bag and two coffees.

The tiny bit of warmth that had returned to me disappeared.

"Ethan, I brought you dinner. You said your stomach was acting up again..."

She stopped when she saw him holding my hand.

Her expression turned apologetic immediately.

"Sienna, sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Ethan's hand stayed around mine for half a second too long before he let go.

He stood.

His gaze lingered on my bandaged hand.

Then he took the bag from Riley.

She handed him another garment bag.

"Oh, and your jacket's back from the dry cleaner. You left it in my car last night."

I stared at the captain's jacket inside the clear plastic.

Last night Ethan had told me he was too tired after his flight and slept in the crew room.

No matter how late he landed, he had always come home before.

Until now.

Ethan noticed where I was looking.

His eyes shifted.

"She drove me back from the terminal. I spilled coffee on my jacket. She just dropped it at the cleaner for me."

Riley smiled faintly.

"Don't misunderstand. Ethan was worried you'd see the stain and overthink it. He knows you care about little details."

I almost laughed.

He was using my so-called sensitivity to explain away their lack of boundaries.

I looked down at the gauze he had wrapped around my hand.

Then I tore it off and wrapped my hand again myself.

I stood.

"Forget the transfer."

Ethan frowned.

"What?"

"I'm resigning."

His face went cold.

"Sienna."

He paused, lowering his voice.

"If you leave, who's going to sign off half the maintenance work around here?"

He described the cage he had built around me like it was shelter.

The last piece of hope I had left died.

I closed my toolbox hard.

The latches snapped into place.

"I don't need you protecting me."

I picked up the case.

"I need you to stop standing in my way."

I walked past both of them and left the hangar.

That night, back in my apartment, I contacted the recruiter for a newly opened maintenance base in Oregon.

I sent over my A&P certificate, my return-to-service records, and every major troubleshooting report I had written.