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CHAPTER 1

Tacker

“Three Three Dece some issues with the primary attitude indicator I’d like to climb a bit”

I glance over at MJ She always used to snicker when I’d say “attitude” indicator Most people think it should be “altitude,” but no… it’s called an attitude indicator She thought that was hilarious

How lancing out at the world with pure joy on her face? She loves to fly as much as I do, but she’s always content to letup in the air, she’s never had a desire to pilot

I’ve never seen her look scared before, and it causes my anxiety to skyrocket She doesn’t even look back to h the windshield, trying desperately to locate the horizon

The radio crackles, then the controller replies, “I’ll be able to issue a higher altitude in two miles Copy?”

“Roger that,” I reply, resolving to hold steady for that long I’ as thick as pea soup My attitude indicator—perhaps the most important instrument on my dash that showsout Without clear skies, I can’t find the fucking horizon and I’m at risk for spatial disorientation My request to cliet us above this mess

Get us to safety

I don’t risk taking rab MJ’s for reassurance So instead, I say, “Hey… think you’ll let me take a little peek at the dress?”

It’s the reason for our trip We’re flying fro dress Then, in two short weeks, we’ll be married

MJ—short for Melody Jane—and what I’ve called her since I first y air surrounding us and gives lance “Not a snowball’s chance in hell”