I’d get her past it. Even if I had to tie her up to let me dote on her. It wasn’t just her now I had to protect.
“We’ll talk when you get back,” I vowed.
“Yep.” Quincy was all lieutenant now, her spine straight, her face composed into a resolute expression.
Dammit. I’d royally fucked up that talk, but I would make it up to her when she got back. I’d make sure she understood just exactly how much I wanted to have that baby with her and what I’d do for the two of them–which was anything and everything.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
QUINCY
“Is that the clearing?”I asked, pointing to what had once been an open area.
One of the Search and Rescue guys, Marquette, he’d said his name was, sat second seat beside me. He wore sunglasses and had a jaw so sharp and square it could probably cut glass. He wasn’t smiling.
“Used to be,” he replied. Baby pine and aspen trees dotted the area. It had definitely been an alpine field a few years ago, but nature was taking over and filling it in. I couldn’t set the helicopter down on top of five-foot-tall trees and shrubs, and it was too much of a jump for them if I hovered.
“Fuck, this isn’t going to plan. Although calls like this rarely do.” That was Anderson from the back.
“Can you circle wider to see if there’s a different place you feel you can put her down?”
I nodded and turned the bird to the east, then took a broad loop over the mountainous terrain. We were about twenty miles as the crow–or helicopter–flew from Sparks, but civilization fell off fast. There were only dirt access roads cutting through the terrain like ribbons, and they were rare. The peaks were jagged in spots with thick patches of snow that never melted.
“How about there?” I pointed to a reasonably flat alpine meadow. It was maybe a thousand feet below the tree line.
“That will work, but we’re probably a mile further away from where the hikers are than planned. We could be hours,” Anderson said.
It didn’t usually take that much time to hike a mile, but this land was rugged and without a trail.
“Weather report calls for possible storms,” Marquette added, glancing at the sky. Clouds were forming from the west, but nothing too bad yet. “You should head back to base, and we’ll formulate a plan for extraction when we find the hikers. I’m hoping they’re stable. If the weather’s shit, you’ll be grounded, so we’ll have to hike out to the nearest access point where our guys can meet us by vehicle. Otherwise, we can give you the exact coordinates, and you can circle for a nearby spot once it clears.”
“Understood.”
I wouldn’t be thrilled about being in the wilderness in bad weather, but this was their job, and they lived for this. Indi was used to it as a backcountry guide. We were trained for anything in the Navy, as well, but not the wilds before a storm.
This wasn’t war. This wasn’t even Naval transport. This was Montana. I carefully set down in the field, the wildflowers whipping about from the rotors. The men climbed out, and Marquette turned to face me. “Thanks for the ride,” he shouted since they’d ditched their headsets. “We owe you a beer when we’re back.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond, just slammed the door shut, and they were off. I waited until they disappeared into the trees then lifted.
“Search and Rescue has been dropped off. Returning to base until further update,” I said into the comms.
“Affirmative.”
Taft.
I had about thirty minutes before I made it back, and I knew Kennedy would be waiting. To talk.
I’d dropped the baby bomb on him and then left.
Maybe that had been the way to do it. I was giving him a chance to realize his life would be better off without the extra baggage of a child he never wanted.
It would crimp his lifestyle. He went on missions. Risked his life. He wasn’t a baseball coach kind of dad. From what he’d said, it sounded like his father hadn’t been anything like that, or if he had, it’d been for a political photo op. Nothing more.
Kennedy wasn’t anything like what he’d painted his parents to be. I wouldn’t have been interested in him if he had.
During our little conversation where he’d told me kids weren’t in his future, I’d told him the exact same thing. I was on birth control because I didn’t want a baby. At all. But I got pregnant anyway, regardless of our wants or plans.
I was pregnant. I was having a baby. But Kennedy could still walk away.