Brenna: Look up.
I do, and there she stands at the car door, her long red hair is blowing in the wind, and then she’s running toward me. I’m moving a little faster, but not much, and her smile is wide when she finally reaches me.
“Jacob,” she says, stopping just shy of slamming into me.
I take another step, cup her face, and press my lips to hers. Gone is the pain from my ribs or anywhere else. Right now, I have her, and she’s healing everything broken in me. Just like she has from the start.
Her hands grip my wrists, and we kiss for God knows how long. It could be hours, and I wouldn’t register it. Much sooner than I’d like, she pulls back, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“I’m here,” I tell her.
“I needed to be here. I needed to see you.”
I kiss her again, short but sweet. “You weren’t alone in that need.” My thumb swipes away the tear that falls. “I never should’ve left you.”
She shakes her head. “No, you had to. I never should’ve tried to make you feel guilty for having to go. You were honest from the start, and I was irrational.”
I wish it were that simple. That it was just being irrational, but there was more to it. I knew that my having to leave her and Sebastian after having made promises would be close to what she went through with Luke. I just had no idea that it would end the way it did.
“Brenna, stop. We were both idiots, and . . . I just want to hold you, kiss you, and love you.”
Her lips turn up as she releases a soft sigh. “I want that too.”
We stand here, kissing, touching, and just staring at each other. I have never felt more grateful than I do right now. “You have no idea how much I thought about you.”
“I’m pretty sure I can imagine.”
“You’re okay?” I ask.
She nods. “I’m okay now that you’re here and okay.”
“What about you? Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, beautiful. I’m fine now.”
“Good. Now let’s go home.”
She takes my hand, and we walk to the car. When I move to slide in, my side explodes in pain, but I keep it together. After a few minutes, I can breathe normally again and link my fingers through hers. She’s sunlight and rainbows after the storms. Being around her, being back together, is everything I hoped for.
“Jacob, what happened? I don’t know if you want to talk about it, but . . .”
I don’t really, but at the same time, I do. I relay the entire sequence of the crash and the aftermath. I talk about Jessica, the way she passed out, and the fear of her not making it. Brenna listens, holding my hand and wiping tears away silently. I let the details go, giving her the story that no one else will ever hear. To the press, it won’t be quite like that. We’ll make it sound much less dramatic, which means they’ll make it far more dramatic, and it won’t be like the truth being told in this car.
“Is she okay now?” Brenna asks.
“The doctors seem to think she’ll be okay, but I don’t really have much information. She saved my life, and even after she slammed her head, she was worried about me.”
Brenna’s thumb rubs the top of my hand. “I’m grateful to her. And I’m sure that, to her, you and the other pilots saved her life.”
That’s probably true. The group of us, we saved each other. No one got left behind and we kept ourselves together.
“It’s over now. I’m here and I want to just be here with you.” She smiles softly, and I wipe away the tear she missed. “So, you didn’t have opening night?” I ask, needing to change the subject.
“No, you sort of were in a plane crash and the town couldn’t go on.”
“I really let them down.”
“You didn’t let anyone down. Not a single person feels that way, Jacob. We were all so worried. All anyone cared about was finding you alive and okay. The play, well, it wasn’t even a thought.”
I wish I believed that, but I imagine how sad the kids must’ve been when all their hard work was ruined.
“Did you cancel tomorrow’s show?”
Brenna rests her head back on the seat. “No. They had one yesterday once we knew you were alive. Another drama teacher from a neighboring town offered to help because I couldn’t do it.”
“You didn’t go?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t sleep for almost two days. After they found you and the crew, I passed out, but it was only for about an hour. Then, when we spoke, I guess I just couldn’t stay awake. My in-laws took the kids after Ellie called them, which is how I was able to be here now.”
I push her hair back, so fucking grateful I can just touch her. “How did you get here anyway?”
“Catherine.”
She’s seriously part witch, I’m convinced.
“I was surprised, but I probably shouldn’t have been,” I say with a chuckle.
“Good surprise?”
I lean over and kiss her. “Great surprise.”
“Catherine was a rock through it all. I don’t know that any of us would’ve known what to do, but she protected the family. We were at your brother’s house, and she was there, making sure no one bothered us while she coordinated everything. I was impressed.”
I can imagine it. Catherine is that saying about being small but mighty. Nothing scares her during the crisis.
“How did you find out about the crash?” I ask.
She tilts her head to me. “It broke over the internet, and Melanie was the one who told me.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I won’t lie and tell you that it was easy. Not that I think finding out any way would’ve been easy, but I don’t know, Jacob, it was hard seeing the headlines and learning about it with millions of others.”
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
And I am. For all of it. One day, I might feel less guilty, but not anytime soon.
“It’s over now. You’re here and safe, and I can touch you.”
I pull her close, needing to comfort her as much as myself. “Yes, you can.”
We fall silent, and I try to imagine how she must’ve felt, hating that she had to go through any of it at all. The limo continues on. We talk here and there, but we don’t talk about the crash. Instead, she tells me about how my brothers are holding up and how great they were.
What I imagined to be the longest drive in history passes much too quickly. We’ve been in our own little world, and I don’t want to leave it. When the limo rolls to a stop, I look out the window at Brenna’s house, and there is a swarm of people on the porch. My brothers, their wives, and the kids. As much as I’m ready to see them, I wish we could stay just like this.
It was fewer than forty-eight hours, and I feel like I missed everything. Maybe it’s because I feel like I aged twenty years in that time.
“You ready?” Brenna asks.
“Can I say no?”
She looks out the window. “It’s probably too late to ask the driver to turn around.”
“Probably.”
Her thumb rubs the top of my hand. “They need to see you too.”