Chapter 8

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MICHAEL

Two hours later,Michael couldn't stand the silence anymore.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in the darkness.

"Me too," she breathed, and her voice hitched. "Will you sit with me?"

"You sure you want me to?"

"Yes."

He got up from the floor and scooted over beside her, feeling awkwardly in the dark, before taking a seat again and reaching for her hand blindly, clasping it in his.

"I'm sorry that things are such a mess between us."

"Why are they, though?" she mumbled quietly. "I don't understand, you know? I mean, we have so much energy between us and…"

"Kindling a spark, remember?"

"I remember," she chuckled, squeezing his hand lightly. "That's why I'm confused. You would think that two people who are incredibly in tune could just fall right into line, but that's not us – and I can't figure out why."

"I'm a mess and…"

"You think I'm not?" she asked, her voice incredulous. "I'm lost, floundering, trying to figure out who I am…"

"Ha!" he chuckled. "You've got it all together, and don't try to pretend otherwise. You work for yourself, have this fancy travel company, you post all these creative blogs with such excitement, and…"

"Michael, I'm trying to make myself feel better because I'm scared I'm going to wake up one day and still be trying to figure out what I'm doing in my life."

"Really?"

"Oh gosh, yes," she laughed softly. "Looks good on the outside, complete mess on the inside."

"You hide it well," he admitted and felt her rest her head on his shoulder, letting out a peaceful sigh at the simple touch. "Me? I know I'm a mess."

"Why is that?"

"Let's see," he began and hesitated, wondering if he should actually open up and then realized a part of him wanted to. It was like he needed to clear the air between them to decide whether they would move forward or simply part ways. "I blew it with my first girlfriend, then went to the Academy and utterly hated it…"

"You did?"

"Oh my gosh, yes," he said emphatically. "That was not for me. I wanted fresh air, sunshine, and to soar in the clouds, but they wanted us to march everywhere, to look alike, and no one could speak up or voice their opinion. That's not me – and I did not fit in."

"What happened?" That simple question was the crux of it all. He closed his eyes and swallowed, letting his head rest back against the wall beneath the shelves where he sat. She gave his hand a light squeeze as if to say ‘it's okay,' and he sighed.

"I wanted to be wild, free, to get out and experience life," he began quietly. "And I did. Some of the guys were going out for the evening into town and invited me with them. We all piled into a taxi, drove out to a bar, and had the most fun I've had in years… before things got odd."

"What do you mean?"

"I think I was on my fourth beer, getting really tipsy, and suddenly there was this woman sitting between me and Milton. She was hanging out of her clothing, all over him, and…" He paused as he felt Poppy tense beside him, recognizing that she was not happy in the slightest at how the story was turning. "She offered to go to a hotel with a few of us if we wanted to slip her some money… and Milton did at the same time a bar fight was starting on the other side of the room."

"Oh, Michael…" she breathed in dismay, and he felt tears of shame sting his eyes as he sat there, waiting for the rejection.

"I didn't sleep with her – and I sure didn't proposition that woman, but Milton did, and she pulled out a badge, arresting all of us. I've never done anything like that, never even considered hiring someone, and less than an hour later, I was sitting in lock up like some hardened criminal."

"What happened next?"

"We were panicking," he admitted. "Scared to death because we knew it was bad. We were in our cadet uniforms; it was all over the local news, and they were going to let us sit there in lock-up for twenty-four hours, which meant we would have missed classes the next morning. I made a collect call to my father because I didn't know what else to do, and it was too late. The Academy already knew what happened and a few days later, I was being dismissed. All of us were dismissed."

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'm not sure that I am," he confessed in a hushed voice, admitting the truth for the first time to anyone. "I hated it there, felt like I was dying, and knew I was looking at another ten years or more. It was a mistake for me and…"

"Michael, you don't have to justify it. Sometimes, we try to please everyone and end up making more of a mess."

"Oh, I made a mess all right…"

"It sounds like you made a desperate attempt to extract yourself from a situation that you couldn't control."

"You don't think badly of me?"

"Not at all," she admitted. "Do you think badly of me for not wanting to be an optometrist like my mother?"

"No. It's a matter of preference."

"Exactly."

"I prefer," she began, stressing the word, "to travel and explore the world. I want to help people find enjoyment doing the same and…"

"Same here. I want to learn about my family's business, have the freedom to travel whenever I want, or share my love of flying with others. There's nothing better than seeing someone's face the first time you go up in a plane. I love that wonder, excitement, and exhilaration, and I didn't get any of that marching, standing in line in a uniform, or saluting someone. I felt like the biggest freak and kept wondering what was wrong with me because the others there loved the strict discipline and regimen. I absolutely loathed it, Poppy."

"So we're both here," she chuckled. "In a pantry, sitting in the dark, confessing our deepest darkest secrets to each other, and relishing in our shared excellence in failure."

Michael threw back his head and laughed easily, feeling freer than he had in years. It was like he'd shrugged off the weights, slaked off his shameful secrets, and found someone who just accepted him for him.

"Excellence in Failure, huh? I like that…"

They both sat there in the dark, shoulder to shoulder, holding hands, unsure what to say next – and then he heard her speak.

"I've missed your laugh."

"I've missed yours."

"I hate that we are both so scared sometimes of what this is, but can't let go either… or it feels like that to me, at least."

"It's the same for me."

And he heard a faint shaky breath followed by a hushed sob that nearly broke his heart. He reached for her blindly with his free hand, cupping the side of her face and bringing her head back to his shoulder, smoothing back her hair and holding her close.

"I'm sorry I'm such a jerk," he whispered and then kissed her forehead gently. "Forgive me? I've always wanted to be the best, to succeed, so I could make you proud."

She jerked back slightly and touched his cheek.

"You do make me proud," she breathed. "I think you are the most incredible person I've ever met."

"Excellence in Failure?"

"It's my favorite thing," she chuckled tearfully and he felt her breath brush against his lips, knowing somehow that she was trying to kiss him in the dark. He leaned forward, drawn, and gently kissed her. It wasn't a grand passionate kiss or something leading to more, but rather a first tender true kiss of love, a silent promise between them. Neither deepened the kiss; this innocent connection was enough for now.

A moment later, he heard the softly spoken words he'd longed for, tickling his lips as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Do you think we could try this one more time?"

"I'd like that," he admitted and chuckled softly, not moving.

"What?"

"You know, if we make it somehow, my parents are never babysitting our kids…" he began, referring to them being locked in the pantry and treasuring her precious tiny giggle between them in the darkness. "I am not going to give them the satisfaction of admitting this worked."

"Nope," she smiled against his lips. "Let's pretend it didn't – and meet for coffee tomorrow?"

"Sounds like a date."

"I can't wait."

"Me neither… wait. Do you hear that? What is that?"

Blinding light flooded the pantry, making Michael wince as he looked up at his mother's frightened face. He felt Poppy tense beside him, realizing she also recognized something was terribly wrong.

"Mom, what is…"

"GO GET YOUR FATHER!" his mother yelped frantically, reaching forward with both hands, grasping him by the shoulders, and yanking him up bodily. The sheer panicked strength of the woman was alarming, and he knew the amount of adrenaline running through her had to have given her superhuman strength.

"What's going on?" Poppy said from behind him.

"Mom… what happened?"

"Your father is in the yard about to kill Emmett Wilkes!"

"WHAT?!"

Michael shoved past his mother to go rescue his best friend from whatever was happening, only to see Emmett step into the house. His father's grim face was right behind him, glaring at the back of the man's head as he held up a cell phone and heard him bark, ‘Go.'

Oh yes, Michael knew that move well and had to go pick a switch off the tree once because he decided to test the man. His dad was starting a countdown before things got ugly, giving Emmett a chance to admit whatever was wrong – and himself a moment to calm down. His friend wasn't stupid either.

Emmett began singing like a canary, not holding back in the slightest.

"I work at the FBI, and I look for problems, loopholes, and errors in the paperwork, processing, and investigations before they issue warrants, go to trials, or bring people in for questioning – and was handed a folder with your name on it," Emmett said openly. Michael heard Poppy's shocked gasp behind him as she clenched at his arm.

This was bad.

"What?" her mother yelped – and his dad held up his hand to silence her, not looking away from Emmett's ashen face. Poppy tugged on his arm. and Michael looked at her distractedly.

"Your family needs you – and you don't need an audience. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her quickly. "Tomorrow, I promise."

"Continue," their father said coolly, not looking away from Emmett's face as the tall man stood there.

Michael watched Poppy silently weave her way out between the shocked family members as she slipped out the door, shutting it behind her. Yes, things were getting tense in the room, and he was glad she left, not wanting her to witness whatever was about to get said. They had enough problems without adding one more, and he loved that Poppy wasn't a person who thrived on gossip. She relished privacy and was always putting him first, even now.

"The folder is full of documents from when you were in the Air Force, photos of you, Flyboys, and someone has filed an insurance claim for a stolen B-52 military bomber plane…"

His father cursed fluidly.

Things just went from bad to worse!