Breaking Sky (17 page)

“I'd rather not say. It was embarrassing for everyone involved.”

“Okay…” Whoa, what in the world had gone down? Did Pippin come out to Tristan? Tell him about his feelings? “What…how…”

Tristan saw her spinning out. “Hey, look, it was crazy when you guys got back—after the drone. He woke up on the concrete and thought you were dead. It took Romeo five minutes to get him to stop screaming. Pippin loves you, Chase, but I think he's melting down inside. I admit…I was pretty upset too.”

Chase gave his speech a solid minute. Picturing Pippin like that—
losing
it
—made her feel like running after her RIO that second. But what would she say?

“We're all melting down.” She looked at Tristan. “Is there anything else going on?”

Tristan didn't catch her nudging. Or he caught it and went another way. His eyes drifted over her neck. “You tell me. What about our moment?”

Chase's mouth went dry. Tristan was. So. Close. And it sounded like he thought about that kiss as much as she was
trying
not to think about it. Another reason not to burst out. “Kale,” she said like she was coming up from underwater. “He doesn't want us to get friendly.”

Tristan sat back, frowning. He felt bigger than he had a few moments ago, like a sudden aggravation had puffed his shoulders. “You always do what Kale tells you?”

“Wow. You really don't like him,” Chase said, factoring in the tense conversation she'd overheard. “Why? Kale's a seriously decent commanding officer. Haven't you seen how relaxed he runs this place? How many freedoms he gives us?”

Tristan didn't answer. His eyes trailed some faraway spot.

“Kale has saved my butt so many times. You wouldn't believe what he's done for me.” Her mind skimmed the day she'd met the brigadier general. The way he'd given Janice murder eyes. “He's the only reason I agreed to come here,” she admitted.

“I understand you have a relationship with him, but that does not extend to me.” Tristan paused. “And he already told me to stay away from you.”

“He did
what
?”

“I went to him last week. I asked him about what happened with JAFA, hoping that if we had an open conversation about it, I wouldn't be so uneven in the sky. I took a big risk and told him about my freezing up in the air, and I even admitted you've been helping me. That's when he told me to keep my distance from you.”

“I'll kill him.”

“Why? Isn't that the exact thing he said to you?” The simulator light played on his cheeks, brightly coloring Tristan's sudden sadness. “So many people died,” he said. “My teachers and friends. I don't even know who made it. Who didn't.”

Chase touched his chest. He looked like he was about to turn to stone, and she wanted to keep him with her. She sat closer. He reached for her face but pinched her ear instead, like he'd done in the infirmary.

“Why do you do that?” she asked.

“Seems like a safe place to touch you when I…feel like I have to.”

She knew that feeling. It was the one keeping her hand tight on his chest. He had a way of making her lean in. Encouraging her to talk
and
listen. It made her feel the rush of what she wanted to do with him like it was brand new. Like she'd never kissed anyone before.

“Harcourt.”

Kale appeared over the back of the simulator chair, making her jump even closer to Tristan. The brigadier general's eyes narrowed. “Take a walk with me. Now.”

Kale marched her to his office without a word. Despite the ominous nature of their meeting, Chase filled with a sense of familiarity in the small, warmly lit room: the coffee scent that almost seemed painted into the furniture; the overgrown, weepy-armed plants; and the line of old muskets on the wall that she always wanted to throw against her shoulder and take aim.

Kale surprised her by sitting in the squishy leather chair—her chair—and picking a mug off his desk. “Have a seat,” he said.

The only other chair was behind his desk. After a pause, she sat in it, marveling at the new angle of the office. The Stars and Stripes on the opposite wall had never seemed more prominent. Chase aligned her thoughts on how she'd defend her friendship—it was a friendship, wasn't it?—with Tristan, but her order left her as soon as Kale spoke.

“I hear you're fighting with your RIO.”

“What? How…” She grabbed the top of her legs and squeezed. “Who told you?”

Kale rubbed his eyes. “Doesn't matter.”

“Damn it, Sylph!” Chase's hands turned to fists and pounded. “I'm going to ki—”

“You're going to do as you're told and be thankful you have someone like Grenadine watching your back.”

“Yeah.
Thankful
,” Chase grumbled.

“I'll ask you two questions, Harcourt. The first—do we need to have a joint meeting with Doctor Ritz?”

“No,” Chase said. “I can deal with Pippin.” Her words came out a little harsh. A little mobsterish, and they seemed to hang in the air and brag her overconfidence. How could she make up with Pippin? Every time she tried, she only made things worse…

“Your second question, General?”

“What's wrong?”

Chase stared at Kale. He was lying back, revealing neck whiskers that were even grayer than his wavy hair. She'd been angry at Kale on her way to his office, but all that evaporated when she saw how tired and beaten he looked. “Can I say ‘everything'?” she asked.

“You can, but you'll have to follow up with specifics.”

“How do I do that?” Chase felt slightly explosive. “Why does everyone assume I'll just spill my guts so easily?” It might work when she was under the spell of Tristan's challenges and too-blue eyes, but with everyone else—Pippin
and
Kale—she was still closed-down Chase. Nyx. Tagline: Off-limits.

Through Chase's lip-biting silence, Kale sipped his mug. Finally, he deposited it on the edge of the desk. “It's been a day, hasn't it?”

Chase peered into the mug, ready to find the hard stuff. “Is that…are you drinking milk?”

“Whole milk. That's how you know I'm on the edge.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Your father digs right into me.”

“We have that in common.” She sniffed the mug, but it really was milk. “General?” She dug for the words and felt red and raw. “He won't take your command away. I mean, he can't just up and fire you. Can he?”

“He could. It was a bit of a joke that I got this post in the first place. I wasn't star material before I got the Star, so to speak. But your father insisted. He wanted me here, and everyone takes his postings very seriously.”

“Mind if we call him Tourn? When you say ‘your father,' it makes me feel like turning around to see if you're talking to someone else.”

Kale nodded slowly. He understood. He always seemed to understand, and she held on to that feeling. Chase shuffled some pages on his desk. “I've heard stories about what the Star was like before you came here. Hundreds of rules. Inspections and dress codes. No fun.”

“When I came here, I found an academy of promising cadets who were too young for military restrictions. They were warring with each other. Flyboys versus the ground crew. Seniors preying on freshmen. Nasty attitudes and backstabbing. I made some unpopular changes. Instituted more relaxed policies. Heck, I even let you kids swear.”

“I love it here.” Chase found tears rather close. “They won't get rid of you, General. Not after the Streakers are approved. You're…cool.”

He smiled briefly. “The government's representatives will be scrutinizing more than your flying when they're here. The Star used to produce valuable cadets for the U.S. Air Force Academy by being hard on them. Curbing their youth. Tourn wasn't wrong about my cadets. ‘They enjoy too much freedom,' I've been told. Academy life in Colorado comes as a shock.”

“But we don't need to beat kids into military service. We need those who are willing and ready and able.” Chase sounded like her father, but she didn't care. “Tourn understands that. He'd rather have five good men than fifteen conscripted ones. That's one of his mottos.”

Kale sat forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I don't know what's made you talk about your—about Tourn so civil-like, but it's good. It'll help when he shows up on Sunday.”

“He's not going to make me fall apart,” she said, more for herself than Kale. “I'll be ready.” She held back from adding,
Although
I
have
no
idea
how.

“We both will.”

Snowflakes swirled outside Kale's small window. The black backdrop made each white crystal stand out. “General Kale?” she started. When Chase and Tristan talked about Tourn, the words just seemed to fall out, but it wasn't like that with Kale. These words weren't connected. She had to line them up, slow and painful.

“I've actually been thinking. About Tourn. A lot.”

“A dangerous pastime.”

“Seriously. He…he seems so hated. I mean, even the Canadian officers bristle when he shows up on screen. So why does he have so many stars? He's been plastered with promotions ever since the world found out what he did to the Philippines.”

“First of all, the only thing he did was follow orders.” Kale leaned back. “Secondly, Tourn has a knack for organizing bases and planning operations. The men and women under his command do their best because they're never left wanting. I've seen it time and again. You know I don't praise him for the fun of it, but he knows what people need, and he gets it for them.”

“Except me.” Now she couldn't stop herself. “He couldn't figure out what I needed.”

“Didn't he make sure you made it to the academy?”

“You could say that. He definitely faked my application.” Chase's hands searched for her knees. For the edge of the desk. For something to hold on to. Nothing stilled them until she clasped her wrists and squeezed.

“Go on,” Kale said, not unkindly, but with an edge sharp enough to suggest that what she was admitting to was as big of a secret as she always thought it would be.

Kale's office turned too quiet as the truth unfurled like a wet and clinging flag. “You showed up at my apartment all those years ago with a plane ticket, and I thought escaping Janice sounded like the best thing in the world. I…never meant to deceive you.” She sighed. “When the government board gets here, they're going to go through every word of my file. Something won't add up. I'm sure of it.”

A new idea burned like a splash of jet fuel. “Tourn could get in trouble.”

“Harcourt, listen carefully,” Kale said. She focused on the wave of his hair and the way he looked at her like she mattered. “First, the government would never touch Tourn. They need him to shoulder too much guilt.”

Chase breathed a tad easier. Had she actually been worried for Tourn? No way. Never.

“And”—Kale leaned back in his chair—“I know about your paperwork, or I should say, I expected as much. New cadets are thrilled when they get their invitation to the academy, seeing as how they've been working on their application for years. I've heard stories of celebration parties where the whole town is invited.” He paused. “Do you remember what you said when I showed you the acceptance letter?”

She shook her head.

“You leaned in so your mother couldn't hear and asked, ‘Will
he
be there?'”

Chase looked down at her hands while Kale continued. “After that, I didn't think I could convince you to attend, but you surprised me. Reversed your attitude and energy in one conversation.”

Chase swallowed. Kale was still on her side, and now she felt a bit sheepish about doubting him. “What
will
happen if the government board figures it out?”

“I've gone over your files, and it all appears in line. We'll move forward as though it's going to be okay.” He sat forward. “I'm glad you admitted the truth. That shows real maturity.”

Chase stood, as shaky as if she had cried, and yet also a good deal lighter. “I couldn't tell you before. I was too afraid you'd kick me out.”

“What's different now?”

“Tourn is coming.” And opening up to Tristan was unwinding things inside of her and proving that it was never honesty she was afraid of. It was the rejection that came with it.

“Remember, Harcourt, Tourn hasn't had a hand in your success here. He might have gotten you in, but
you
earned your wings. You became the best pilot in your class, and you won the opportunity to become one of the first Streaker jocks. And you're going to prove that in three days.” He paused. “What will you do about Donnet?”

Her head grew heavier, that fast. “I don't know.”

“I think you should take a page out of this book. Talk to him. Openly and alone.”

Chase held back from pointing out that she'd already tried that. “He's avoiding me pretty stealthily.”

“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll be strapped to you and falling a good thirteen thousand feet. Apply your usual fervor and you'll get him between the crosshairs.” She half-smiled, always enjoying when Kale tried to speak jock pilot. He stood up. “And though I'm so very
cool
, you should be in your barracks. It's late.”

Chase felt surprisingly…good. She had Tristan to thank for that, which reminded her. “Wait. I need something. The casualty report on the JAFA bombing.”

Kale was shaking his head before she'd finished. “That's classified, and you shouldn't even be talking about it. Router needs to let this go.” He looked at her sideways. “Did he put you up to this?”

“I know I'm not supposed to be
friendly
with him or whatever, but we're wingmen.” She felt strangely proud of herself all of a sudden.

Kale scrubbed his hands through his hair. It reminded her of the time Tristan had done that in the locker room, how it wasn't an attractive look but one that bled anxiety. “You aren't going to say you're in love with him, are you?”

Chase couldn't tell if he was joking or crazy. “No, General. He and I…we're just similar. We understand each other in the air. I trust him.”

As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. It made her stand taller, although Kale only laughed like his terrible day had just received a punch in the nose. “That's so much worse.” He got up and held the door open. “The intel you're after is above my pay grade, Harcourt. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't.”

She readied objections but didn't have the chance. He pushed her out the door. Shut it.

Chase stood in the dead hall. It was past curfew. The timed lights clicked off in sequence down the administrative offices hallway, and Chase made her way to her room by the red glow of the emergency signs.