Chapter 15

15

SARAH

T he next morning, before classes started, I met up with Kylee and two of the other pilots from my UPT program, Clay and Rolley. We headed to a café on base for breakfast. I was still fuming about the day before.

Ryker and my father were conspiring against me. How dare they treat me like someone who needed to be monitored? I wasn't a child. I hated that they had talked about me like I was a problem to be solved. But that was the general. He had to keep a watchful eye on everything and I was sick of it.

The four of us settled into a booth, eager to catch up after the events of the previous day. I was still smarting from the embarrassment. Everyone else had gotten to pilot the aircraft. I was the only one that got put in the backseat like a loser.

"So, what the hell happened yesterday?" Clay asked.

Rolley nodded. "Seriously, we were half expecting to witness a crash and burn scenario."

"That would have been better than finding out my father had assigned Ryker to be my—" I hesitated, seething at the thought.

"Assigned Ryker to be your what?" Rolley asked.

"Babysitter," I muttered.

Kylee blinked in surprise. "You didn't tell me that!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. "What do you mean, babysitter? How old are you?"

"My father seems to think I'm three years old." I sighed. "Or just useless."

Kylee looked at the guys. "Her father is General Thomas."

The guys both look shocked.

"You're General Thomas's daughter?" Rolley asked.

"Don't be impressed," I said. "It totally sucks. But yes."

"Holy shit," Clay said. "I guess you got your looks from your mother."

Rolley punched him in the shoulder. "Hey, show some respect."

"Don't get squirrely," I told them. "I'm still Thomas. I don't report to my father. I'm not a spy. I don't get special favors. I'm just me, okay?"

"What's this about a babysitter?" Kylee asked.

I sighed. "My dad. He thinks I'm a little too much."

"Too much what?" Kylee asked with confusion.

"Too much everything," I said. "Too cocky. Too confrontational. Too reckless. You name it, I'm too much of that."

"So, Ryker is your babysitter?" Kylee clarified. "Is that why he was at the bar?"

"The bar?" Rolley asked. "You guys went drinking and you didn't invite us?"

"Long story," Kylee said, waving her hand. "At the bar, Sarah got into a fight. Well, almost got into a fight with some dude that was being a real douchebag."

Both guys looked shocked. I simply shrugged my shoulder. "Shit happens."

"Damn, remind me not to mess with you," Rolley teased.

Kylee nodded. "Especially since Ryker is watching her every move."

Rolley winced sympathetically. "That's rough. For how long?"

"Knowing my dad, probably for the entire length of my training program here. He can't be here to watch me, so he sent his minion. I have a feeling that's why my parents bought the house in Colorado Springs. They knew I was going to be going to the academy and wanted to be able to keep an eye on me. But he knew I had to move on for the rest of my training, so he found someone to shadow me."

Thinking of Ryker was a dark cloud threatening to overshadow my excitement for the day ahead. His presence messed with my head and threw me off my game. It was hard to know someone was watching every move I made, hoping to catch me slipping. I wouldn't be free from him if I couldn't graduate from this program. I wouldn't be able to move on to the fighter squadron like I'd been dreaming.

It's not fair. I've worked so hard to get to where I am, and now it feels like my own father is sabotaging me at every turn. I'll find a way to prove myself, with or without Ryker breathing down my neck.

We ordered our breakfasts and continued discussing the situation at hand. Kylee suggested coming up with a plan to outsmart Ryker and show him that I was more than capable of handling myself without constant supervision.

Clay nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we can come up with something to keep Ryker off your back. Maybe if he sees that you're responsible and skilled enough, he'll back off."

Rolley grinned mischievously. "Or we could just give him the slip whenever possible. I mean, how closely can one guy actually follow you around?"

I chuckled at their ideas, happy to have a new group of friends.

Our meals were delivered. The scrambled eggs and bacon I ordered were my comfort food. I picked up my fork and started eating.

"This year is going to be like the Hunger Games," Rolley joked. "It will probably be the hardest of our flying careers."

We all chuckled nervously, but deep down, I knew he wasn't entirely wrong. The intensity of UPT was no joke, and the pressure to perform was higher than ever. I felt like I had more pressure on me because of who my father was. People were going to expect more of me.

We moved on to discussing our first academic class for Phase One of UPT—weather. Clay groaned at the mention of it. I agreed. It was potentially going to be the most dry and boring subject of all. The fact that it was crammed into just three weeks, with as many time slots as possible, didn't make it any easier. We would have to endure countless lectures and readings just to take the exam and move on to the next subject.

"It's going to be a rough few weeks," I agreed, feeling a sense of dread settling in. "And with only a handful of flight classes to break up the monotony it's really going to suck."

Rolley nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring my own apprehension. We continued to eat, all of us lost in our own thoughts.

"What if we meet up after all our classes and put each other through tough physical workouts before dinner?" I suggested. "We have to stay in tip-top shape while we're here, and it'll give us something to focus on outside of all the academic stuff. I know I can think better after a good workout."

Clay and Rolley exchanged a glance, considering my suggestion. After a moment, they both nodded in agreement.

"I'm in," Clay said.

"Count me in too," Rolley added. "It'll be good to blow off some steam after sitting through those lectures all day."

"You guys are crazy," Kylee said. "We have to study. We're not going to have time for long workouts."

"Well, we can make time," I insisted, feeling determined. "Physical fitness is just as important as academic knowledge in this field. Plus, it'll help us relieve stress and stay sharp. Trust me, it'll be worth it. We were just saying we got soft over the summer. If we're going to get in the cockpit, we have to be in good shape. What good is it to pass all your tests if you fail the physical stuff?"

Kylee sighed but finally relented with a smile. "Fine, I'm in too. But let's make sure we're smart with our time so we can fit everything in."

We finished our breakfast and made our way to the academic wing, settling into our seats in a lecture-style hall. Each of us had our own computer for taking notes.

I shifted to get comfortable in the chair as the civilian instructor arrived and began to discuss the effects of weather on our flights. It wasn't anything we hadn't already learned. It was boring.

I did my best to listen attentively as he went over the material, but there was something else on my mind besides lightning and snow. Tuning the instructor out, I started googling Dean Ryker. I needed to know more about my babysitter. He seemed to know all about me. I needed to level the playing field.

An image of him popped up on my screen, looking every bit the seasoned pilot with his helmet under one arm. A line of planes stood behind him. They were all fighters he'd tested and pushed to their limits, the lucky bastard.

I clicked on a link to an interview with him that I'd read before, but there was something about seeing his face again that drew me in. Now that I'd actually met the man, I wanted to know more about him. I needed to understand who he was.

He was confident, charismatic, and undeniably skilled—a lethal combination that was hard to ignore. His looks were part of the package. He didn't really act like he was trying to seduce anyone. In fact, he seemed very uninterested in romantic relationships with any other ladies.

I had met plenty of cocky men and they all seemed to want to get in the pants of as many women as possible. Ryker seemed very focused on his career instead. That was probably why he seemed determined to make me live like a nun. He wanted me to be the perfect, innocent little lady that was all about her career and never did anything to raise any eyebrows.

I closed the article and returned to the search results. Another link caught my eye. I clicked on it without hesitation. It led me to an article mentioning his recent divorce.

Interesting.

I hadn't known he was married, let alone that he was now single. It added another layer to the enigma that was Dean Ryker. I scrolled through the article, absorbing every detail.

Part of me wondered why I was so interested in his personal life, but another part couldn't deny the thrill of uncovering something new about the man who seemed to be constantly hovering over me like a storm cloud.

As the lecture droned on, my mind raced with questions and possibilities. What drove him and his wife apart? How did it feel to have your personal life plastered all over the internet for everyone to see?

But most importantly, how did any of this affect me and my training?

I didn't have all the answers yet, but one thing was for sure—Dean Ryker was far more complex than I ever could have imagined.