Page 14 of The Temptation of Truth

“This is Torren King, Jonah Hendrix, Claire Davis, the little sleeping princess is Teddy, that bald giant is Red, the dog is Ziggy, this is my fiancé, Levi Cooper, and our daughter, Brynnlee—she’s who you’ll be tutoring—and Mabel Rossi is the one wearing sunglasses and big headphones because she finds us all insufferable on long-haul flights.”

Brynnlee gives me a cautious smile before dropping her eyes to her lap, and weirdly enough, it makes me feel a little better. I think she’s just as nervous as I am, so I decide to give her some space. I’ll let her adjust to my presence before I bombard her with introductions and lesson plans. I need time to adjust, too. I wave hello to everyone else, giving each person a quick nod, but I let my eyes linger a little longer on Mabel, since she’s sleeping and therefore the only one not looking back.

Of all the band members, her image is the clearest in my memory. Music videos, album covers, magazine rack displays. Ieven used to have a poster of the band on my bedroom wall. The drummer is never front and center, but she was always the first I saw. There’s just something intriguing about her. Something that draws my eyes and my curiosity. Something that makes my stomach tighten and my heart kick up speed.

While everyone else is dressed down, Mabel looks ready for a photoshoot. Knee-high leather platform boots, fishnet tights, a distressed denim skirt, and a pink-and-black corseted top that shows off her tattoos.

My first thought is one of awe. She’s so damncool. It makes me feel even more out of place in my cotton dress and vegan leather ballet flats. Her black-and-pink hair is shiny and curled in loose waves, and I’d bet money that if I could see her eyes, they’d be winged with black liner. They usually are. I find myself wishing she weren’t sleeping just so I could know for sure.

When my gaze drops to her plush, bright pink lips, she smirks, and my breath catches. I dart my attention to the ground in front of me and try my best not to burst into flames of embarrassment. Guess she wasn’t sleeping after all. Now my heart is thrumming so loudly I can hear it in my head.

“Don’t worry. I don’t expect you to remember any of those names.”

I blink out of my panic and nod awkwardly at Sav, then force a shaky laugh.

“Yes. Okay. Thanks.”

“Savannah.”

Uncle Wade’s voice mercifully serves as a stern reminder that we have to take off, so Sav dips her chin in his direction, then gives me a smile.

“Sit anywhere. We can chat later. Oh, and cool plant.”

“Thank you.”

Sav makes her way to a couch-type seating fixture on the side of the cabin with Levi and Brynnlee. Despite the open seat nextto Mabel, I choose one of the empty chairs in front of her. I buckle quickly, then drop my head to the headrest.

Shoulders back. Deep breaths.

When the pilot announces that we’re readying for takeoff, I move one of my hands to the armrest and dig my fingers into the plush leather. My intention was to watch out the window, but instead, the moment the jet starts to taxi, my eyes clamp shut involuntarily. The wheels rolling beneath me feel different than a car or a bus, and I immediately hate it.

I know what it means to fly. Yesterday, I was even excited for it. But it’s no longer an abstract event now. It’s real, and the fact that we’re about to be air-bound suddenly has sweat dotting my hairline. Forty thousand feet above sea level in a tin can with wings is more terrifying than anything else has ever been. I should open my eyes to seek out the emergency exits or the oxygen masks or the life vests, but I can’t. When the jet jostles slightly, I have to bite back a yelp.

It’s official. I hate flying. This was a terrible idea.

“Rossi, sit down!”

“Sorry, Ham.”

I hear my uncle mumble something aboutgrown fucking adults, but then a body drops into the seat next to mine and all my attention zeroes in on it. My eyes fly open to find Mabel beside me. Her sunglasses are still on, but her giant headphones are around her neck.

“My first time flying was scary as fuck, too.”

Her tone is kind, but her words float on a teasing lilt, and heat surges to my cheeks.

“What? No. I’m fine. I’m okay.”

“Girl, I could see your hand white-knuckling the armrest from back there.”

“Oh. I just...”

God, this is embarrassing. My face is on fire. Not only am I the least rock and roll person on this plane, but I’m also a giant baby. I try to force out an unbothered laugh, but it ends up sounding like a choked hiccup.

“I’m fine.”

She smiles playfully. “Let’s not lie to each other. Let’s start our relationship on a foundation of truth.”

There is no judgment in her voice, and it helps to dampen my embarrassment. I work to unclench my teeth and exhale slowly. Lying is useless, anyway. I’m a wreck.