Can't Let You Go (2 page)

I
was practically
raised on the streets. By twelve, I had a rap sheet, knew how to steal to eat, could pick a lock with just paper clips and Trident, and could deflect the advances of my druggie mom’s boyfriends with one well-placed knee.

I was fearless.

And now here I sat in my worn, cramped plane seat two hours into the ride, shaking like a weed in a tornado, and noticing I was still clutching Charlie Benson’s hand like it was all that held us upright.

I let go and gave a small laugh. “Sorry.” Nothing like reuniting with an old friend by welcoming them into your neurotic phobia. “Takeoffs make me nervous.” And the part that comes after—the whole driving in the sky thing, hanging by clouds, winds, and various gravitational whims. “Takes me a while to wind down afterward.”

His eyes softened, and I remembered all the times as a teenager I’d stared into them, sure there was a God, and He had baptized Charlie with a benevolence of genetic blessings that resulted in one beautiful, intelligent boy who had routinely taken my breath away.

“I love to fly.” Charlie rested his head against the seat and smiled. “I’ve put in a lot of miles in the last year. I love the rocking of the plane, the hum of the engine. Some of the best sleeping conditions.”

“Right.” I would have to be drugged unconscious. “So tell me about your job.” Charlie had gone to college in Chicago, leaving the town of In Between, while I had stayed behind, doing junior college, then moving on to a state university in South Texas.

His gaze left mine, and he looked down the aisle toward the flight attendant pushing a cart. “Nothing exciting. I interned for this company my senior year. They hired me right after graduation.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m very entry level,” he said. “I’m kind of a glorified paper pusher right now.”

“I know that won’t last long. What company did you say you’re with?”

“Would you like a beverage?” The flight attendant brought her silver cart to a stop by us, her red lips smiling.

I requested a soda, and the woman popped the top on the can and poured it over ice.

“You probably want to give her the whole can,” Charlie said. “I think Katie here could use the stiff drink.”

“Would you like me to pour in some complimentary tequila?” the flight attendant asked.

I nodded vigorously. “Yes, please.”

“I was just kidding.” She laughed and pushed her cart down the aisle.

More cruelty delivered mid-air. Thanks, lady.

“You’re fine,” Charlie said. “The hard part is over.”

“Maybe you could keep talking.” I snuggled my side into the chair, facing my old friend. My old boyfriend. “Keep my mind off our imminent doom.”

He laughed. “Tell me about you. You haven’t been too present on Facebook the last year. Hard to tell what you’ve been up to.”

Images of the last six years flashed through my mind. Some of them amazing. Some of them . . . not worth thinking on. “I finally graduated.” I took a bolstering swig of soda, enjoying the way it burned going down. “Then I got selected to go work in London.” Had that been a blessing or a curse?

“My mom said you were in some pretty impressive productions.”

I’d forgotten how intense his gray eyes could be. So focused, like I was the only person he wanted to be talking to. Those eyes were older now, still full of mischief, always reflecting an intimidating intelligence, but now there was something more looking back at me. Something darker, maybe a little bit heavy. Like Charlie Benson might have had some sadness and secrets of his own.

“It was an unforgettable experience,” I finally said.

“How long are you staying?”

“A while.” I left it at that, clutching my arm rest as we hit a few bumps of turbulence. “What about you?”

He lifted his drink and absently swirled it, studying the dark contents. “I’m staying until the wedding at least. Spend some time with my family.” Charlie had his brother Joey, who was four years older than us, but he also had a very young sister who had come along our junior year of high school, a late surprise to his parents.

The wedding was still almost a month away. “So you could be in In Between for quite a while.”

“My job is pretty flexible right now. I can work from anywhere. I never get to spend any time with Sadie. Skype is great, but I think we need some brother-sister time.”

“That’s really sweet.” I didn’t know Joey well, but I hoped he was just as thoughtful. Frances deserved the best.

The plane made a sharp jerk to the right, and I slapped my hand on Charlie’s. I frantically looked around, but neither of the flight attendants seemed concerned. The person across from us read a
People
, while the couple a row ahead amiably chatted away.

Lightning cracked outside, and I jumped.

Charlie’s fingers slid back and forth over mine. “We’re fine,” he said as the plane dipped, sending my stomach to my feet. “Just a storm.”

And just how many more of those did I have to endure?

I looked at my hand captured in his, and I knew Charlie was just being nice. That’s just who he was. But the rhythmic strokes of his fingers calmed my frayed nerves as nothing else had on this long voyage home.

The plane began to shake and rattle like the busted glove compartment on my old Toyota. Only I couldn’t turn up the radio, sing my car solos, and drown out the noisy vibrations.

“Why do you think we didn’t work out?” I asked.

Charlie didn’t startle. Merely lifted a dark brow as he inclined his head closer to mine. “Where did that come from?”

“Was it me?”

“I—”

“Is there something about me that pushes guys away? That asks to be dumped?”

His hand on mine stilled just as a flight attendant gave a staticky report. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be preparing for landing soon, and the captain has turned on the seat belt sign a bit early. We’re hitting a brief patch of turbulence with this storm, but we’ll be out of it in no time and getting you on the ground.”

“She sounded worried didn’t she? Did you hear that tension?” I sat up as straight as my seatbelt would let me, frantically taking in every detail around me—the location of the flight attendants, the body language of fellow passengers, the reassuring presence of the wings that still seem to be blessedly attached.

Charlie poured more drink into my icy cup. He was probably regretting sitting by me. He probably wished I’d drink my diet soda and happily pass out in a carbonated coma, so he could go back to his own seat and read his
Wall Street Journal
or whatever it was a calm,
normal
professional would read.

I needed medication.

“Here, eat some of these.” Charlie reached into the leather bag at his feet and pulled out a box of M&Ms.

I snatched them out of his grip and downed a handful. I chewed vigorously, savoring the sugar and chocolate on my tongue. What if this was the last time I tasted such heaven?

The plane, deciding the shaking was just its opening act, brought on the full-on quaking, jumping up and down like a Pentecostal at a Holy Ghost revival. My butt gained some air, and I turned my frightened gaze to Charlie. “What’s happening?”

“Turbulence.” He lifted a shoulder in such a lazy fashion, you’d have thought he hadn’t noticed the way his hair bounced on his head from the aeronautical shenanigan. “You were asking me why we didn’t work out.”

“I was?” Those overhead bins were vibrating loud enough to crack something. Like a wall.

His smile was a slow lifting of the lips. “Why do you think we didn’t make it?”

I tightened my seatbelt, trying not to wonder at the age and durability of it. “Because you had your eye on some blonde Barbie who I could never compete with.”

“That’s not true.”

“That you didn’t have your eye on Chelsea Blake?” My high school nemesis.

He had the decency to look guilty. “That you couldn’t compare. You were prettier and smarter than her any day.”

Men in shimmy-shaky planes will say anything. “But you dumped me to go after her.”

“Geez, that was high school. And I believe it was a mutual break-up. What was that guy’s name you started dating that summer?”

“Tate.” Sweet boy, but we had made better friends than a romantic duo. When he had dumped me he’d said, “
Katie, your heart’s just somewhere else. And it’s not with me
.”

“I got smart our senior year,” Charlie said. “Finally worked up the nerve to ask you to prom.” He squeezed the hand he was still holding and gave me a look that zinged right to my weary core. “And you and I spent most of the night camping on a blanket under the stars.”

“At the lake.” I’d been in a wreck that week, missing school for five days. With my leg in a cast, prom had been too much for me, and Charlie had come to my rescue, taking me out to the lake. He’d built me a fire, made a pallet on the rocky ground, tucked me into the crook of his arm, and pointed out every constellation he could find in that April sky while I rested my head on his chest and listened to the crickets and the cadence of his heart.

Then we graduated. And Charlie Benson, of the lingering kisses and spell-binding astronomy, had moved away.

Rain and wind battled outside my window, and I uttered a quick litany of prayers. Prayers that begged for calm skies and fifty more years of life.

“Guys don’t stick around though.” I watched bolt of lightning slash the sky. “Eventually they find someone else, something better.”

He leaned close. “Is that what you really think? That you weren’t good enough?”

“It’s hard to argue with history.” I held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “I’m not trying to be pitiful. I just want to get to the bottom of it. I’m tired of making mistakes, wasting my time.” Being tossed out, left behind.

The plane took a leap north then dipped back down. My breath caught in my throat. “I want off this thing,” I said. “I want off this thing right now.”

“Please put your seats in the upright position,” announced the flight attendant. “Return your tray to its proper place.”

The pilot took his turn next, giving instructions and saying God only knew what—probably Last Rites. But I couldn’t hear a thing for the rising noise around me. Somewhere up front a baby wailed. Nervous chatter swelled within the cabin.

“What’s the pilot saying?” My heart beat a crazed staccato, and I wanted to both cry and laugh at the insanity of it all.

“He said to stay calm, that we’d be out of this storm soon.” Charlie took quick stock of the situation around us, then turned his attention back to me. “You were telling me why you broke my heart when we saw each other last.”

“I did not.”

I expected him to smile, to follow up with a joke.

But Charlie said nothing.

He captured my other hand, prying my fingers off the armrest, then pulled me closer, laying his forehead against mine. “I don’t think you remember the events of those last few months accurately. Katie, I—”

His words died as light and fury exploded around us.

The flash of lightning.

Screaming.

Falling.

Plummeting.

Spinning.

Fear clawed within me as Charlie threw his body over mine. “Hang on,” he yelled in my ear. “Just hang on to me.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t drag in enough breath.

Please, God, save us.

I uttered the plea silently.

Then aloud.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go to heaven. It was just that I didn’t want to clock-in at the age of twenty-three. I’d always known flying through the sky was a bad idea. Always.

“Charlie?”

“I’m right here. I’m not letting you go.”

His arms encircled me and held my tight. He mumbled words of assurance, broken prayers, and other utterances the terror swallowed whole.

I couldn’t go like this. I couldn’t let the words I’d held for so long die with me.

With all my strength I pushed Charlie off of me, only to grab his face, his stubbly cheeks in the palms of my hands. His wide, dilated eyes searched mine.

“I love you, Charlie.” I pulled his face closer, blocking out the shrieks around us and the spin and tilt of death. “Do you hear me? I never stopped loving you.”

“Katie, I—”

Then I pressed my mouth to his, holding Charlie Benson to me, knowing these lips would soon draw their last breath.

And I didn’t want to waste those seconds.

Then Charlie Benson was kissing me back. His lips covered mine. His hands cradled my head. Hot tears slipped down my cheeks, and I thought of my family. The foster parents who had taken me in when I’d been a broken, rough sixteen years old. Mad Maxine, the crazy old lady who’d become not just my grandmother, but my best friend. They’d changed me. Given me a new life, rewritten my future.

The world spun.

The plane fell.

And I just held on.

“I’ve got you,” I heard him say again. “I’m not letting you go.”

And after all these years, I believed him.

Just when it was too late.

And with Charlie’s kiss consuming me, my world went dark.