Chapter 4

Chapter Four

MONTY

Monty had two successful cases that had gone before a judge, and he hadn't had a fainting spell in eight straight days. He was not only calling it a win, but he was calling Kylen to go flying. The only thing that put a damper on his joy was the fact that his life was a little empty of people to celebrate his wins.

His closest friend up to that point was probably Matthew, his legal assistant, who sometimes took him bowling or invited him to the movies with his friends.

But he wasn't the kind of acquaintance that Monty could share his small triumphs with. He'd tried once, but Matt had just given him a strange look and said congrats in the most tense voice Monty had ever heard.

It hurt, but only because it was a reminder that he was very much alone.

Kylen, however, was different. He listened like he wanted to hear Monty talk. He was kind in ways most people weren't. Monty knew the man didn't really give a shit about the fact that he'd managed to stay upright for a full week, but he smiled like he did .

And he sounded almost eager to take the plane out, which boosted his mood even more. He was having a cup of tea in the airfield lounge when he saw Kylen walk through the doors, and it was the grin on his face that told Monty that maybe he had actually made a friend.

"I'm so glad you called last night. Oh my God." Kylen threw himself into the comfy chair across from Monty and dropped one of his feet onto the low table. "This week has been a shitshow."

Monty grimaced. "Work?"

"I had to eject four passengers this week. Four. One man had to get hog-tied with zip ties and duct tape." Kylen rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "I came out of the cockpit, and the dude spit in my face, so I ended up being sent to my GP for tests to make sure he didn't give me anything."

Monty felt a little green. He would have probably fainted and stayed unconscious until his brain processed that trauma. "Was he arrested?"

Kylen laughed. "Oh yeah. That was kind of the highlight, to be honest. But, that night, I got a call from the staff where my gran's staying at because she escaped at four in the morning. They found her paddling a goddamn kayak in the lake."

Monty tried not to laugh. He pressed his fingers to his lips, but the image was too funny. "Oh, putain ," he said through giggles. "I'm so sorry, but that's…"

"Oh, I know it's hilarious. Dallas almost pissed himself when I told him." Kylen was smiling, but he really did sound tired. "But it's been a fucking week. I told him that if you called, he was on his own for dinner. He's got the girls tonight too, but he had a much better week than I did, so I don't feel bad."

"Then let's revel in this moment of zero drama." Monty finished his tea, then set the cup down and rose, offering Kylen a hand up. "Shall we?"

"Hell yes."

Flying with Kylen meant that Monty got to do some of the work. He got to handle takeoff while Kylen handled the landing, and the moment they were cruising, he sat back in his seat and watched the tops of the clouds as they headed toward the airfield near his grandfather's resting place.

"So. Are we flying for good reasons or bad ones?" Kylen asked after a long stretch of silence.

Monty leaned forward, resting his elbow on the dash, chin against his curled knuckles. "Both, I think. I had a couple of very successful cases in court, and I haven't fainted in a while. But things are complicated with my family."

"Dad's back on his bullshit again?"

Monty had always liked that phrase. It was very apt in that moment. He turned his head to look at his friend. "I understand why you did what you did when you asked Dallas to be your fake boyfriend."

Kylen's cheeks pinked. "You mean when I lied and used his name, and then he found out but didn't throw me under the bus?"

Monty laughed. "Yeah. If I had someone I could use that way, I would. I'd want to be really petty about it too. I wish my father had friends who weren't as terrible as him. I'd fuck one and make sure he found out about it."

Kylen choked. "That's vicious."

Monty shrugged, unrepentant. "My last bad spell"—he tapped his temple—"was because he picked a fight with me at lunch for not calling his wife Mom."

"She's young, right?"

"Half a year older than me, and I'm his youngest child." Monty rubbed at his eyes.

"Is she one of those?" When Monty raised a brow, Kylen shrugged. "You know, sugar babies or whatever."

He shrugged. In truth, he didn't know for sure. She might have started out that way, at the very least. Maybe his dad decided it would be easier to marry her. "I wish I could hate her. It would make the whole thing easier, but she's nice. She's entirely out of her depth with my family. My siblings are cruel to her, but they hide it well enough that if she complains, she looks like the one who's losing it."

Kylen's face darkened. "What the fuck?"

"That's how they are. That's how my father expected me to be, and I think it drives him mad that I'm not." He rubbed his eyes, fatigue stealing over him. "I wish he'd just drop it. I wish he'd see what a good person Poppy is and let her go. She doesn't deserve this."

Kylen was quiet for a long moment. It was nearly time for the descent, and he braced himself. He was never good with landings. The shift in altitude, more often than not, caused small spells, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

He closed his eyes and waited to see if his body would drop. "Quick question," Kylen said as he took over the controls.

"Mm?"

"You know I'd never want to exploit you for your plane…"

Monty smiled a little. His limbs felt heavy, tongue thick. "You want to throw a little party? Take some friends up?"

"Dallas's nephew has always wanted to fly. I mean, he's been on a plane, but you know, in the cockpit. Check out the instruments, see what it's like to control it for a bit. We talked about flight school, but he doesn't want to waste his dad's money."

Monty opened his eyes and frowned. "Why would it be a waste? What if he loves it and follows in your footsteps?"

Kylen shook his head. "Yeah, the world isn't ready for a totally blind commercial pilot."

Ah. Monty didn't understand that, but he did understand what it was like when a disability stood in the way of something he wanted. He couldn't drive anymore. He couldn't fly alone. He didn't like going on long walks away from his house for fear of bashing his head open.

It was frustrating and limiting in spite of his life being full of successes and wins.

"If his dad had fuck-you money, he might consider it, but he doesn't. So I figured I'd ask. I don't think he'll be upset if you say no."

"You want to give him lessons?" Monty asked.

Kylen flushed and looked away. "Sorry. Yeah, Was that incredibly rude of me? I didn't mean?—"

"Of course you can," Monty said in a rush. He ran fingers around his mouth. Was he frowning? Did he look angry? "This plane was a gift from my grandfather, and I think he'd resent me if I didn't use it for good things. That sounds like a very good thing."

Kylen's eyes widened. "Really? Okay. Would you want to come along?"

Monty's brows lifted. "Why?"

"Could be fun," Kylen said. "And you could probably offer advice I can't. He'll relate to you more. Besides, I like hanging out with you."

The honesty in his voice was a lot. In a good way, but he wasn't sure how to process it. He swallowed heavily, then nodded. "Yes. Okay. I—" The rest of his words stalled on his tongue as a sudden wave of heaviness took over. His eyes closed. Everything went dark as his limbs refused to move.

Trapped in his body again.

But at least this time, he was somewhere safe.

Monty had recovered by the time they'd landed. Kylen had seen him go cataplexic before, so he no longer panicked. He waited patiently until Monty could get up again and trusted him when he said he was fine to keep going.

They made their way across the tarmac to the lounge doors, but when Kylen started to head off to the little bar, Monty caught his arm. "Would you like to come with me?"

Kylen looked startled. "Where?"

In the time they'd been flying together, Monty hadn't ever invited Kylen to come along. He just took off in his hired car. It was easier to keep his cards close to his chest. But something had shifted between them—a spark of friendship growing into a blaze. He wanted to share this with someone he cared about. Someone who cared about him.

"I'm going to visit my grandfather's grave. It's been a mostly good week, and I like to talk to him about it."

"Are you sure you want me there?"

Monty smiled. "I'd like to introduce him to a friend."

Instead of looking horrified or his face filling with pity, Kylen looked flattered. "That sounds nice. Lead the way."

The drive to the cemetery wasn't too long. The driver was quiet, which Monty appreciated, and Kylen spent the whole time staring out the window at the rolling hills of the country. His grandfather's resting place overlooked a golf course—and as much as Monty would have wanted to be buried literally anywhere else, it was fitting for him.

Kylen laughed softly as they passed the gates and saw headstones on one side and a driving range on the other. "This is nice."

"It's very rich old white man," Monty said.

With a snort, Kylen pressed his nose to the glass. "I know several members of my family who'd kill to spend their eternity here."

Monty chuckled and glanced past him at the long stretch of green as they made their way past the driving range. "I think my grandfather would have agreed. It's perfect for him. This was his favorite place."

The driver pulled in just past the gates and dropped them off, and Monty promised to send him a text before they needed to head out. It felt strange not having flowers with him this time, but his plot was well tended to. From where he stood, he could see the Fire King lilies were growing, lush and full of bright orange blossoms and thick, green leaves.

"I want vines on mine," Kylen mused as they began to walk the path. He had his hands in his pockets, and he kicked at gravel with the tip of his shoe. "Well, actually, I don't want to be buried. I saw this video where they use mushrooms to basically turn bodies into mulch and then grow stuff from it. Which…maybe that's creepy, but I don't know. It sounds like a better way to contribute to the Earth than stick a chemical-laden coffin in the ground to rot." He froze, then gave Monty a horrified look. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean?—"

"No, no." Monty smiled at him, reaching a hand out to squeeze his shoulder. "I understand what you're saying. I would choose that too. Something natural. Something kind." He led Kylen down the short path to the massive headstone where his grandfather was laid to rest. "I think if he'd known about it, he might have chosen it too."

Kylen kept a few feet back, likely trying to be respectful, and Monty wished he had a way to tell him that it wasn't that deep. He wasn't racked with sadness and overwhelmed by loss. He missed his grandfather every single day, but by the time he'd passed, he was old and in pain.

He'd stuck around just long enough to see that Monty was going to be okay, and then he let go.

It was the way it was supposed to be, and Monty couldn't be angry about that.

He took a breath and turned toward the headstone. "Pépère," he murmured, switching to French, "this is my friend Kylen. You would have liked him. He's kind. He's the one flying the plane. It's been a good week this week, and he made it better. It's been a while since I've been able to say that. The only thing that could make it better is if I could find someone I love to introduce you to. But this should be enough, right?"

A cardinal swept down and landed on the headstone. Monty didn't much believe in signs, but he couldn't help the way his heart swooped through his chest.

"Cardinals are good omens, right?"

"I wouldn't know," Monty confessed. He watched the little bird. They made eye contact, and then he fluffed his wings and took off. "Maybe it was him saying hello."

Kylen stepped closer to him, hands still in his pockets, and he leaned close, brushing their elbows together. "You wanna come to dinner with me and Dallas tomorrow night?"

Monty turned to look at him. "As a third wheel?"

Kylen snorted. "No. As company for our third wheel. Dallas is bringing his brother. He's been moping a little—freshly divorced, trying to adjust to being single. He never makes us feel bad when we act like a couple, but I thought it might be nice for him to have someone else to talk to. And Dallas misses you."

"Oh. Does he?"

Kylen laughed like the question was absurd. "Yeah, he does. You need to come out with us more often. We like hanging out with our friends."

Friends . Monty's chest was warm as he nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah? Good. Dallas is going to be thrilled."

So maybe he had more than one friend. Maybe he had a few. And maybe there was room somewhere in the universe for him to have more than just this.