Grey Skies - A Military Romance (Complete)

Grey Skies: Chapter 45

Sophie stuffed her hands into the pocket of her winter coat and shuffled her feet. Across the tarmac of the airfield, the wind howled like a lonely wolf, its frigid bite nipping her exposed cheeks. This morning it had snowed and Sophie worried Finn wouldn't be able to make the trip to Washington.

But the ex-Navy Captain kept his promise and had arrived before sunrise. Coffee in hand, Sophie had greeted him at the door of Emily's condo, eager to get to the base. Thanks to Finn's connections, they'd been granted access to the waiting area on the open field. Along with a handful of personnel, they would be the first to greet the soldiers arriving home.

Another blast of wind tried to push Sophie over, and she leaned into the gale.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait inside?" Finn shifted his tall frame to act like a shield against the gusts. "Or back at the apartment? There's no guarantee we'll even be able to get close to Max."

Sophie tugged on the brim of her woolen hat. "I need to see him."

Until she laid eyes on Max, she couldn't find the faith to believe he was home.

Finn gave a curt nod. Although he didn't express his emotions in words, his rigid stance and pinched eyebrows indicated he had the same need.

A low whine turned the heads of the group, and Sophie followed their line of sight. In the distance a small dot appeared against the slate clouded sky. She loosened her scarf, exposing the fevered skin of her throat to the chilly air. The dot morphed into wings and the body of a giant ebony plane. The engine's roar rattled in Sophie's ear as the landing gear became visible. Her ears rang as the plane landed and drew toward the waiting crowd, the noise blocking out the pounding of Sophie's pulse.

The single rope acting as a fence cracked and creaked in the wind. After an eternity, the door to the airplane opened and Finn gripped Sophie's shoulder like he knew if she wasn't tethered to him, she'd leap over the useless barrier and charge up those stairs.

Max was on that plane.

The door sat vacant. No one emerged.

Sophie stomped her foot. "What's taking so long?"

Beside her, a woman dressed in a navy-blue wool coat spoke up. "They deplane the critically injured first."

Bile caught in Sophie's throat. Now she didn't want Max to be among the first off the plane.

There was a loud clunk and the back of the plane yawned open, creating a ramp to the tarmac. A man emerged, and Sophie's nails dug into Finn's forearm. They both exhaled when it wasn't Max. The attendant signalled, and an ambulance jutted out of the waiting line of vehicles, stopping at the bottom of the ramp. Sophie strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the person on the stretcher they loaded into the back.

"Not him." Finn mumbled. "Too tall."

The process repeated itself, this time a woman in a wheelchair emerging.

"Most likely, he'll go straight to the medical center for an assessment." Finn warned Sophie again. "Depending on the severity of his injuries, he might have to stay overnight."

Sophie placed her hand on her stomach like her fingers could quell the inner turmoil causing havoc on her nervous system. "And if he's—"

The question died on her lips as a short man with closely cropped hair limped out of the plane. Sophie's lungs refused to work, praying he'd turn around. Even though she'd know those broad shoulders at any distance, she had to see his face.

The man twisted his neck, and a strong jaw came into view.

Max.

Sophie's knees threatened to buckle. Finn clutched her shoulder, steadying Sophie. A quiet "thank goodness" escaping his lips.