Fighting for Flight by JB Salsbury (easy readers TXT) 📕

close himself off, subject to a lifetime sentence of loneliness for one girl. But the difference is that Guy’s love was worth the fight. He didn’t fight for her, but he lives with the regret because she was worth that. Not me.

“Not everyone’s worth fighting for.”

He steps close and places his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes look deep into mine. “I’ve seen you two together: the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, like you’re the sun and he’s happily stuck in your orbit. Never seen you with a boy before so I can’t be sure, but seein’ you messed up in the head about it, I’m guessin’ you feel the same way. You guys got something special, Ray. Fight for it. It’s worth that.”

His words rock me to the bone. Something deep and instinctual recognizes Guy’s words as truth, but I can’t get past my head: Jonah’s conversation with Owen, him pushing me off on Eve, not calling all day. All arrows point to a broken heart.

My head throbs, and I have an overwhelming urge to be alone. “Thanks, G.”

“You’re welcome. You don’t want to be me, lookin’ back on your life, wishing you could have another shot at something sweet.” He ruffles my hair then steps back. “Now, go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

He throws his arm over my shoulder and walks me to the foot of my stairs. Departing with a wave, I watch him until he disappears around the corner.

The weight of today pressing down, I drag my body up the stairs. A hot shower sounds better and better with each step. The motion light above my door flicks on, and I freeze as my foot hits the top step. Holy crud.

The old door to my apartment is gone, and in its place is a solid, dark wood one with an enormous platinum handle. My jaw falls open as I study its features: a peep hole and three gleaming locks. I grab my keys and finger through the set to find . . . Yep, there it is: a shiny new silver key. Jonah must have slipped it on my key chain this morning. The corners of my mouth lift as I examine the product of his overprotective nature, and just as quickly as the smile comes, it fades. How will I live without him?

I’m able to get myself inside before the tears start to fall. Crawling onto my bed, I bury my face in the pillow and sob. I have to believe there is a tiny chance that Jonah doesn’t want to end things. I can’t go on any other way.

But hope is such a dangerous thing. My heart dared to hope that Dominick would one day come banging on my door, begging for forgiveness. But instead, he killed every dream of a future I had. Hope. It has sustained me through my darkest days, but it also lifted me up only to drop me, breaking me into irreparable pieces. Could I live through that kind of fall again?

Crying jag over, I pull myself up and into the shower. I move through the motions, numb and absent. Dressed in drawstring fleece pants, a tank, and flip-flops, I check my phone. No missed calls.

I haven’t heard from Eve all day, and although I’d planned on ignoring Jonah’s request that I stay at Eve’s, I could use the company. It must be the new boyfriend that’s keeping her busy. Except for the occasional text message and a couple morning phone conversations this past week, she’s been unavailable. The few talks we’ve had have been one-sided. She asks me about Jonah, and I talk forever, but she never talks about herself outside of what she’s up to at work. Just thinking about her now is making me miss her terribly.

I dial her number and listen as her voicemail tells me to leave a message. With nothing better to do, I decide to drive over and drop in on her. If she’s not there, I can always try her work.

Grabbing my keys, I head to my car with the hopes of finding Eve and keeping my mind off Jonah. I relax as the hum of my Nova and the warm air that whips my hair envelop me. Elton John blasts in my ears, and in that moment, I’m just some girl, not the daughter of a prostitute and a pimp, bred for— Ugh! I slam my hand on the steering wheel and focus on the crooning voice of Sir Elton. I punch the gas, singing at the top of my lungs and hoping to chase away the worst of my demons.

As I pass a strip of fast-food restaurants, I’m hit with the smell of hot oil and french fries. My stomach rumbles its complaint. With everything that’s been going on today, I’ve forgotten to eat. I try Eve’s phone again. Voicemail. I redirect my car to hit my favorite drive-thru.

Turning left towards the lights of the Vegas strip, I head down Tropicana. The flashing neon of a club up ahead gets my attention. There’s a line of people wrapped around the building. I recognize it immediately as Zeus’s Playground, one of the high-end strip clubs in town. Stuck at a stoplight, I look at the club, shaking my head at all the men who are about to drop a week’s pay down the panties of a stripper while the little woman is probably home taking care of the kids. Pathetic.

My gaze moves back to the road in front of me when something catches my eye. In the parking lot of the club, I would recognize it anywhere. I squint hard. My head gets light, and the blood drains to pool in the pit of my empty stomach. I fight the impulse to vomit or pass out.

Jonah’s truck.

I blink, hoping to clear the optical illusion. The honking of a car horn startles me and causes me to look ahead. The light’s green, and I