Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 07

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 07

Amber stumbled back two steps.

She’d never seen Nathan like this.

He’d always been so smooth. Controlled. The perfect captain.

“Nathan, why are you yelling at me?” Her eyes welled up instantly.

“Is Clara giving you a hard time about the Lights again? I told you to give her the ticket. You’re the one who wanted me to go. Now she ran away and you’re taking it out on me?”

Nathan stared at her.

Watching her play the victim, he suddenly felt something churn in his stomach.

This was the girl he’d bent over backward for four years.

And after Clara left, Amber’s first instinct wasn’t guilt. It was to distance herself. Shift blame.

“You knew she was leaving, didn’t you?”

He stood up and walked toward her.

“In the airport lounge. You held my arm on purpose. Because you saw Clara across the way. Didn’t you?”

Amber went pale for a second, but she recovered fast.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nathan, calm down. She

probably just went to her hometown…”

“Shut up.”

Nathan grabbed the spare key from her hand. Then he grabbed her pink suitcase and shoved both out the door.

“Don’t come near me again. Work stuff—keep it professional. No private messages.”

“Nathan! Are you insane?” Amber finally dropped the act, shrieking. “You’re kicking me out? Then who’s going to help me with my schedule? Who’s going to take me through sim training? You’re taking away all my privileges. How am I supposed to survive at the airline?”

Hearing that, Nathan’s heart went completely cold.

No concern. No questions. Just rage at losing her perks.

“Get out.”

He slammed the door.

Amber’s screaming cut off.

…

The next few days, Nathan went on a rampage.

He hired a cleaning service and threw out everything Amber had ever touched, used, or even glanced at.

Those white canvas sneakers she’d worn when she came to pick up flight materials.

The ceramic mug she’d left here.

Even the teddy bear pillow on the couch.

All of it went into black trash bags and down the chute.

When he was done, he sat in the empty living room and found a blank piece of paper.

He wrote “Debt List” at the top.

He wanted to write down everything he owed Clara from eight years.

Number one: The eighth anniversary.

Number two: The Northern Lights from six years ago.

Number three: Being there for her nodule surgery.

Number four: Her mom’s heart bypass.

Number five: One proper ride in the right jumpseat.

…

His pen stopped.

He realized he couldn’t finish the list.

What he owed her was her best eight years. Countless nights

she’d stayed up waiting for him. All the work she’d put into lifting him from nothing to captain.

How do you repay that?

He covered his face with both hands and let out a sound that was barely human.

He asked around in the company group chat. Pulled strings to check Clara’s flight records.

He had to know where she went.

A week later, a buddy from ground crew got him the info.

[Nathan, got it. She took flight HU7281 last Wednesday. To Sierra Vista.]

Nathan’s hands shook holding the phone.

[Thanks.]

He bought the next flight to Sierra Vista.

He folded the “Debt List” and tucked it in his breast pocket.

He brought his thick flight logbook. And a brand-new jumpsuit pass.

He thought if he apologized well enough, if he made up for everything he owed, she’d sigh like she always did and forgive him.

But he was too arrogant to understand what a woman looks like when she’s truly done.

…

The wind in Sierra Vista was still gentle. I was repotting some succulents in the yard, dirt on my hands.

The old lady Betty Vance next door came over with a bowl of fresh peach cobbler.

“Clara, take a break. Have something sweet.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Vance.”

I washed my hands and sat under the eaves with the cobbler.

The sun broke through the clouds and turned the mountains golden.

I watched the sunset. I didn’t have to imagine what it looked like from thirty thousand feet.

Because the view I had right now was the best one.

Then the half-open wooden gate pushed open.

I turned.

Nathan stood there. Travel-worn, eyes bloodshot.

He looked at me like I was something precious he’d found again.

“Clara… I finally found you.”