Chapter 10

Chapter

Ten

I lookup as Morgan walks across the sand and joins us. A drink in each hand. He hands over one of the cups to me. "Jack and Coke. Unless you'd prefer something else?"

I accept the drink, our fingers brushing momentarily, reigniting the flicker of connection I"d felt on the plane. "It"s perfect, thank you," I manage to say, hoping my voice doesn"t betray my unexpected emotions.

Iris catches the brief exchange and raises her eyebrows in a silent question I"m not ready to answer. Instead, I take a sip of the drink, letting the familiar burn of whiskey settle my nerves.

The sand is cool beneath my feet as I shuffle them, trying to ground myself in the reality of this moment. Morgan stands before me, the glow from the tiki torches casting dancing shadows across his features. I look away and wonder what the hell I'm thinking. Haven't I been burned enough lately? And Morgan looks like he could light me on fire.

Iris starts talking and I don't catch the beginning. It's not until she says my name and flying that I tune in. "Morgan's an excellent flyer," she says, motioning to him. Her tone is nonchalant, but her intent is clear.

Morgan looks as taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation as I feel. "Yeah, I guess," he says, running a hand through his tousled hair, looking every bit the part of the laid-back surfer I"d pegged him for on the plane.

Iris doesn"t miss a beat, turning her gaze to me. "Claire here was just saying how maybe it"s time she learned to fly."

I nearly choke on my drink. "Iris!" I practically shout, shooting her a warning glance. This isn"t the time or place for this conversation, not with Morgan standing right here, not when I"m still trying to navigate the tumultuous waters of my own emotions.

Morgan"s interest is piqued, though, and there"s a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Really? I"d be happy to help. Flying"s not as hard as it seems once you get the hang of it."

I shake my head a little too forcefully, almost spilling my drink. "No, no way. I"m not—I can"t." The words tumble out in a rush, my fear of flying, a deeply ingrained terror, rising to the surface. Forget what I said in the car. I don't care if I ever face my fears.

But Iris is relentless. "Come on, Claire. You said it yourself, maybe now"s the time to learn. What better place than Mystic Hollow, and who better to teach you than Morgan?"

I shoot Iris daggers, but then I lock eyes with Morgan, and there's something there. His gaze holds mine, and for a moment, the world around us seems to pause. There"s an understanding in his eyes, a gentle encouragement that"s as unexpected as it is compelling. It"s not the pushy, overconfident prodding I"d expect from someone who thrives in the sky. Instead, there"s a softness, a quiet promise that he"s here, not just as a teacher, but as someone who genuinely wants to see me succeed.

The sincerity of his look sends a shiver down my spine, not from fear but from the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, I could do this. With Morgan's help, the wide, open sky might not be as terrifying as I"ve always imagined. It"s a fleeting thought, one that"s quickly clouded by years of avoiding even the highest step on a ladder, but it lingers, stubborn and intriguing.

The seconds tick by.

I"m torn, caught between the safety of my fears and the allure of overcoming them. Morgan"s presence is encouraging, his demeanor confident yet gentle. "It"s up to you," he says, "but I think you"d be surprised at what you"re capable of."

I take a deep breath, the ocean air filling my lungs, mingling with the scent of the bonfire and the spices from the BBQ. The laughter and chatter of the other guests fade into the background as I consider the possibility, the chance to confront a fear that"s held me captive for far too long.

Reluctantly, I nod. "Okay, I"ll think about it." It"s not a yes, but it"s not a no, either.

Iris turns to Morgan. "What do you say, tomorrow morning?" she says.

I feel a sudden knot in my stomach at Iris"s enthusiasm. Her hands come together with a clap that seems far too definitive for my liking. The casual setting, the gentle lapping of waves in the background, and the crackling of the bonfire all seem to fade as the weight of her words settles over me.

Morgan"s gaze shifts to me, an unspoken question in his eyes. "Sure, if that works for Claire?" His voice is tentative as if he"s aware of the sudden seriousness that"s descended upon our light-hearted gathering.

I"m caught off guard, the reality of the situation suddenly becoming very real. The idea of learning to fly, something that"s always been a distant, nearly impossible thought, is now being scheduled like a casual coffee date. I take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

"Tomorrow morning?" I repeat, the words feeling foreign as they leave my mouth. I"m not sure if it"s the Jack and Coke or the surreal turn of events that"s making my head spin. "I... guess so?" My answer comes out more as a question, my uncertainty clear.

Iris beams, clearly pleased with herself for orchestrating this, while Morgan simply nods, a gentle smile on his lips. "Great, let me give you my number." Morgan waits while I clumsily take my phone out and hand it over to him. He uses my phone to send off a quick text so I can add him to contacts.

"We"ll take it slow, I promise," he assures me, handing my phone back.

I manage a weak smile, not entirely convinced but too swept up in the moment to protest further. The thought of facing my fears offers a strange sense of comfort, even if the thought of actually taking to the skies makes me nauseous.

"Tomorrow morning," I affirm, more to myself than to him. It"s a small step, a whisper of a commitment, but it feels monumental. As the night wears on, the warmth of the fire and the gentle buzz of conversation around me, I can"t help but wonder what I"ve just agreed to.