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Prologue

HOW MANY TIMES WILL you burn me?

Three, four, five, maybe ten—

Is ityou?

Yes, ‘this’ needs to end

If you walk away first, I’ll follow suit

I’ve told you this before, and yet you never do

THE FIRST TIME I FLEW through severe turbulence, I swore on ain

It happened during a red-eye flight from Seattle to London, when three hours in, ere swept up in a sudden suers screamed and prayed for their lives, and my calm assurances of “Hold on! Everyone, please just hold on!” fell on deaf ears

The pilot was young and inexperienced, his soft voice not colasses from the first class cabin shattered onto the floor ae, I pro over if we ever landed

I broke that promise hours later, of course, but I could finally say that I’d experienced the worst of what turbulence could ever be

Or so I thought

“Miss?” A passenger in first class interruptsmy elbow as I walk down the aisle “Miss?”

“Yes?”

“How er until we arrive in Paris?”

“Eight hours, sir” I resist the urge to tell hio “Would you like soht?”

“A refill on my white wine, please”

I nod and quickly oblige, retrieving the wine frolass to the top I need to take care of him as fast as possible so I can finally sit alone and address the unbearable ache in my chest

“May I have a blanket as well?” the man asks before I can step away

I force a smile and retrieve one fro it for hi else?”

“No, but—” He stops mid-sentence and raises his eyebrow “Oh, , your face is really red Why are you crying?”

“I’y season”