The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

Scarlett looked her sister over, then turned her attention to the tea. She couldn’t stop this marriage. She couldn’t take the bruises from Constance’s face, nor would she ever be able to. But she could help her escape, if only for a little while.

“All right,” she agreed. “Read me the last line.”

…

Jameson brought the Spitfire down in a near perfect landing, though he felt anything but on his game. The Germans had been swift to retaliate, and the bombings had increased tenfold, if not more.

There were now three Eagle Squadrons, full of Americans ready to risk their lives. Rumor had it, by the fall, they’d all be back in American uniform, but Jameson had stopped listening to rumors ages ago.

He taxied, then turned his fighter over to the ground crew. He could’ve sworn his muscles creaked in protest as he climbed out of the cockpit. The number of hours he’d spent in the sky lately felt like they outnumbered the ones he’d spent on the ground, and his body had taken notice. It had been weeks since he’d been allowed to sleep at Scarlett’s side.

The few hours he’d managed to spend with her hadn’t been nearly enough. He missed his family with an ache so sharp, it threatened to slice him in half, but every day became more apparent that he should miss them more… That they should be as far away as possible.

“We’re off for the night,” Howard said with his arms raised in victory. “What do you say, Stanton?”

“To what?” Jameson asked as he removed his helmet.

“Let’s get out of here and blow off some steam,” Howard suggested as they headed for the hangar.

“If we are really off for the night,” Jameson said, “the only place I’m going is home.” Just the thought had his lips turning upward.

“Oh come on,” Boston chimed in, walking beside Howard with a lit cigarette in his mouth. “Get one of those…what did the Brits call them…kitchen passes.”

Howard laughed as Jameson shook his head. “What you don’t get, Boston,” Howard said with a grin, “is that Stanton here would rather go home to that gorgeous wife of his than ask for a night out with the boys.”

“The last two weeks have been a night out with the boys,” Jameson countered. “And if any of you had a woman half as good as Scarlett, you wouldn’t be so quick to ask for a kitchen pass, either.” Besides, it wasn’t just Scarlett he was going home to. William had begun crawling, the changes in his little body happening so fast that Jameson could barely keep up.

“I heard she has a sister,” Boston joked.

“A very engaged sister,” Howard replied.

Jameson’s jaw flexed. Not only was it absolutely abhorrent that Constance was marrying an ogre, but he knew the guilt of it ate Scarlett up and spat her back out daily.

“Flight Officer Stanton,” an airman called, waving his hands just in case Jameson hadn’t heard him.

“So help me God if they don’t let me go home tonight, I’m going to prang an aircraft.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Howard said, slapping him on the back.

Fine, he wasn’t actually going to crash an aircraft on purpose, but the thought had its appeal if it got him just a couple of days with his family. He waved the airman over. The kid couldn’t have been more than nineteen, or maybe it was simply that Jameson felt decades older than twenty-four.

“Flight Officer Stanton,” the kid said between heaving breaths.

“What can I do for you?” Jameson asked, already preparing himself for the possibility of another night without Scarlett.

“There’s someone here to see you,” the kid announced.

“Does this someone have a name?” Jameson asked.

“I didn’t catch it,” the kid admitted. “But he’s waiting for you in the pilots’ rest room. He was really insistent that he see you.”

Jameson sighed and ran his hand over his sweaty hair. He hadn’t just spent the last few hours in an aircraft, he also smelled like it. “Okay, let me get a shower —”

“No! He said he needed to see you as soon as you landed.”

“Great.” Jameson kissed the thought of a shower goodbye. “I’ll head over right now.”

To say he was in a foul mood by the time he walked into the rest room would have been an understatement. He wanted a shower, and Scarlett, and William, and a hot meal, not some secretive meeting in the—

“Holy shit! Uncle Vernon?” Jameson’s mouth dropped open at the figure he found lounged in one of the leather armchairs that lined the rest room wall.

“Finally!” His uncle stood with a wide grin and captured him in a bear hug. “I almost had to give up on you. I’m due to leave in the next half hour.”

“What are you doing here?” Jameson asked as he stepped back, noting the American uniform his uncle wore.

“Your mother didn’t tell you?” Uncle Vernon asked with a sly grin.

Jameson’s brows rose as he recognized the insignia. “You joined the Transport Command?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well sit home on my backside while you were over here risking yours, could I?” His uncle’s eyes swept over Jameson in that appraising way he’d always had. “Sit down, Jameson. You look like hell.”

“I’ve looked like hell for the last two years,” Jameson argued, but sat, sinking into the worn leather. “How long have you been flying for the ATC?”

“Almost a year,” Uncle Vernon replied. “Started out as a civilian, but eventually the pressure got to me,” he admitted, motioning to the rank on the collar of his flight suit.

“At least they made you a lieutenant colonel,” Jameson noted.

His uncle grimaced. “It has some privileges, like being able to hold a flight three hours late when your nephew is in the middle of a dogfight. A nephew I heard happens to be an ace.”

“Wonder where I got those flying skills from.”

“You’ve surpassed anything I could have taught you. It’s damned good to see you, boy. Though even I