Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 32

A baby screeched as the wheels of the airplane hit the tarmac and Max gripped the arm of his seat. He'd never been a fan of flying. The concept in general defied gravity. The irrational fear bloomed after the helicopter accident. Every squeak, alarm, shutter or bump scraped across his nerves, physical and mental. To him, they were warning signs the plane was malfunctioning, about to fall out of the sky.

For six hours he'd been on the plane, and only when the fasten seatbelt sign clicked off did he take a full breath. His mouth was dry, caught between relief at being back on the ground and angst at the knowledge the next five days would be not only Sophie-less, but he'd have to contend with his father.

At least he had returning to Sophie to look forward to. A muscle tugged in his gut at the memory of holding her through the night. Baby Wainwright, no Lucy, had to spend a few days in the hospital and Finn refused to leave her side. The hospital had 'accommodated' the new father, so he and Sophie had driven back to the lake house late last night. Too tired to contemplate eating, Sophie had pulled Max upstairs and straight into their shared bathroom for a shower.

Unlike their usual routine of shower sex, Sophie had carefully and gently washed his hair, his body, massaging out the strains of sitting in a hospital chair for too long. He'd returned the gesture, his fingers brushing over her tired muscles, trying to ease her discomfort. Once clean, he'd towel dried her hair and wrapped her in a fluffy bathrobe. With a chaste kiss on her brow, he aimed her toward her bedroom.

She'd laid her head on his chest. "Will you stay with me?"

Max's heart had double timed. "Always."

Her fingers dug into his waist, her embrace surprisingly strong. When she didn't move, Max lifted her in his arms and took her to her bed. They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Sophie had awakened him holding a cup of coffee, a sad look on her face as she reminded him the car was coming to take him to the airport. Ignoring the coffee, he spent the remaining minutes he had left imprinting his lips on Sophie's. He was breathless by the time the chauffer waiting in the driveway was impatiently honking his horn.

Max trudged down the airport terminal, his duffle bag in hand, and searched for his sister. He almost walked past Wanda, her hat and scarf covering her features.

"Max." She tugged on the sleeve of his coat. Slim arms tried to hug him, her Michelin Man jacket making the task nearly impossible. Cole shook his hand and offered to take his luggage.

"I convinced Mom to let you stay at our place." Wanda unlocked the door of her quad cab and she slid behind the driver's seat. "Figured you didn't want to sleep in your old room."

"Is it still the same?" Max asked.

"Yup. Mom tried to convert it to a sewing room, but Dad refused. Why he insists on preserving your trophies and every article ever printed in the Badger Daily about the baseball superstar-to-be, I'll never understand."

In the back seat, Max winced. He'd fled that room seven years ago, leaving his hopes and dreams along with his useless baseball cleats. He stared at the flat, snow-covered fields that seemed to never end as they exited the interstate and sped toward the one-stoplight town of Badger.

His mother stood on the front porch, wrapped in a sweater that was old when he'd left. She attempted to make her way down the snowy steps, but Max bounded up the stairs and caught her in a bear hug. Did she feel smaller? Frailer?

Her ice-cold fingers traced his cheeks. "You're so handsome. Those portraits of you in uniform you send home don't do you justice."

Heat flamed on his cheeks. "You're biased, mom."