Such a Rush

“The Chinook’s gone now,” I pointed out.

Grayson looked around. He wanted to stay and argue, but he realized he was now being held up and losing contracts just by standing there. He walked toward the red Piper.

As an afterthought, he turned around and walked backward. “Molly,” he barked. He pointed toward the rolled-up ba

Molly saluted him and galloped toward the grass. The other spectators faded into the metal buildings they’d scurried from. Nothing to see here. The last rumble of the Chinook had faded. The airport was as calm as if the helicopter had never landed.

I turned to Alec. “What’s Grayson’s problem? I liked the Chinook dropping by. I thought it was neato.”

“He’s mad because I got admitted to the Citadel.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Alec, that’s great!”

“He thinks I’m going into the military,” Alec said.

“Oh.” Now I saw. As Grayson started the engine of the red Piper and we watched him taxi past us toward the far end of the runway, I realized I didn’t see the whole picture, but I understood the tiniest piece of why Grayson wanted Alec to be smitten with me. The Citadel was in Charleston, the city Grayson wanted me to keep Alec away from.

I asked, “Are you going to join the military?”

“I don’t know,” Alec said. “I can go to the Citadel without joining. I did think it was a great idea. I mean, I want to fly for a living. Where else are you going to get the chance to fly a Chinook? Or, gosh, an F-15?”

I nodded. An F-15 was what Jake had been flying in Afghanistan when he got shot down.

“I told my family a couple of weeks ago,” Alec said, “and Grayson went ballistic.”

We both turned to watch Grayson take off, the tiny plane sailing without incident into the calm sky.

“He got my mom all freaked out,” Alec said. “Then Grayson got this bright idea that we should run Hall Aviation, just like my dad. I’m thinking, Hell no. I couldn’t imagine going into business with Grayson. Could you?” He turned to me, blond brows raised, wanting me to verify his answer.

“Before I saw it for myself,” I started slowly, “I would have said no. But now…” I gestured toward the red Piper skimming low over the grass. Grayson passed the upright poles. The plane shot up at an impossible angle, nearly stalling the engine. Had he missed the ba

“The business seems to be going okay,” I continued. “I mean, gosh, Grayson knows how to do taxes.”

“Right,” Alec said. “He’s putting forth all this effort now. He’s throwing himself into this like he would have thrown himself into rock climbing before, this wall of energy with no understanding of the consequences, shoot now and ask questions later. That’s just because he and Mom convinced me to try out the business with him over spring break and a few more spring weekends, since Dad already had the contracts. If it goes okay, they want me to come back and fly with Grayson over the summer, and consider it as a civilian career instead of ever going into the military.”

“I get it,” I said. I really did. Grayson had thrown himself into this business, for Alec. He had swallowed every bit of his impulsive, irresponsible personality and redirected it toward a responsibility way too heavy for an eighteen-year-old boy, all for Alec. To fill out the contract schedule, he had needed me to work for him too, just like his dad had pla

And when I had refused, Grayson had found a way to make me.

“What do you think?” Alec asked.

I blinked at him. He was wearing aviator shades, just like Grayson, but for some reason his expression was a lot easier for me to read than Grayson’s ever was. Alec needed reassurance. “About what?”

“The military,” he prompted me. “Versus flying tow planes, or some other civilian job. I mean, you’ve got this job now, and Grayson told me that Mark had been dicking you around about a job flying crop dusters for Mr. Simon. But you’re not pla

I nodded. “Because I live in a trailer.”

“That is not”—Alec paused in midsentence as he realized that’s exactly what he’d meant—“what I meant,” he finished weakly.

We both looked toward the Admiral’s plane as he started his engine.

“I’ve never been in the military,” I said slowly, “so I don’t know for sure. I can only judge from what I’ve seen, living in trailer parks with mostly military families when I lived near the Army base and then the Air Force base.”

Alec opened his hands, prompting me to go on. “What did you see?”

“I saw that the military treats people like dogs.”

Alec’s fresh face hardened. “If you lived in a trailer park with them, you probably mean single enlisted men. Privates.”

“I mean the military treats its perso

Alec’s brows went down behind his shades. “I would have a college degree, though. I’d be an officer. I’d get a bigger housing allowance, and I wouldn’t live in a trailer park.”

“You would have no choice about what you did for your job,” I promised him, “or where you did it. You wouldn’t have a lot of say in where you lived. You would be a bigger dog.”

Alec backed a step away from me. “You’re awfully down on the military.”

“Because I’ve lived with them!” I said. “That’s what I’m telling you. You have no idea.”

“I do have an idea,” he insisted. “My father was in the military, and my brother.”

We both fell silent. He was hearing what he’d just said, and I was waiting for him to hear it.

“Why did Jake join?” I asked him. “It seems like your dad wouldn’t have wanted him to, honestly.”

“He didn’t want him to,” Alec confirmed. “But Mom didn’t want Jake to go into business with Dad. I think Jake finally joined up because he was so frustrated with both of them telling him what to do and trying to control his every move.”

“He joined the military out of frustration?” I asked, incredulous. “I’ll bet he regretted that.”

Alec shrugged. “He never said he did.”

“Of course he couldn’t admit it,” I said. “Not to your dad. He’d be admitting that your dad had been right all along. From what I’ve seen, that’s not how your family works.”

The whole scenario was making me ill. Jake joining up out of frustration. Regretting it the instant he got sent to Afghanistan. Mr. Hall knowing Jake regretted it, and feeling responsible because he’d driven Jake to that point in the first place. And then, when Jake died, Mr. Hall was in a dark place.

“So, if you’re interested in joining,” I said, “I wouldn’t do it just because you thought your dad wanted you to. I’m sure he didn’t.”

Alec frowned at me. I realized what I was saying was none of my business. I went on anyway, because it was important. More important than making him like me. Actually, I was begi

“Your brother died three months ago,” I said, “and your dad died two months ago. So recently that you and Grayson and I hold our breath when one of us brings them up. You’re grieving, and you’re not thinking straight. Anything you do because Jake did it or your dad might have wanted it—that’s suspect. You have no perspective. And especially something like this, a decision that will tie up your life for, what? Five or six years after college? The next ten years of your life? You should make that decision with a clear head. There’s absolutely no need to jump into it now. You could wait six months and make the decision then.”