Chapter 11: The Sundress and the Sky
The dress had been an impulse buy.
Luna had spotted it in the window of a boutique near campus—white cotton with pink embroidery along the hem and sleeves, the exact shade of her hair. She'd walked past it three times before she finally went in. The girl at the counter had smiled and said it was the last one in her size. Luna had handed over her card before she could talk herself out of it.
She hadn't worn anything like this since Ethan.
That thought sat heavy in her chest as she stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric over her hips. White trainers. White thigh-high socks that came just above her knees. Her hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, freshly washed and smelling like coconut.
She looked—different. Not hidden. Not armored.
The girl in the mirror looked like someone who wasn't afraid.
Her phone buzzed.
Leo: Six hours.
Luna: You're counting?
Leo: Down to the minute.
Luna: That's a lot of minutes.
Leo: 359 now.
Luna: You're ridiculous.
Leo: You love it.
She smiled. Typed back: See you up there.
Then she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs.
Her mother was waiting in the kitchen, keys in hand. She was wearing a cream-colored blazer over a simple blouse, her hair pulled back in a low ponytail. The base commander's wife. Composed. Elegant. The kind of woman who made everything look effortless.
She looked up when Luna walked in.
And stopped.
"Wow."
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"I was thinking you look beautiful." Her mother's eyes traveled down to the dress, the socks, the trainers. "That's a new outfit."
"I bought it last week."
"For today?"
"For me."
Her mother nodded slowly. A small smile played at the corner of her lips.
"Your father's already at the base. He's in the commander's tent for the duration. We're VIP stands."
"Good."
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
Her mother raised an eyebrow.
"A little."
"That's more honest."
They drove to the base in her mother's sedan—a silver Audi that smelled like lavender and hand sanitizer. The roads leading to the airfield were packed with cars, families in minivans and veterans in pickup trucks, all streaming toward the same destination.
Luna watched them through the window. Kids with toy planes. Dads in ball caps. Moms with strollers. Everyone here for the same reason—to watch metal defy gravity and men become heroes for an afternoon.
She wondered if Leo had ever felt like a hero.
She wondered if he wanted to be one.
The base was a sprawling complex of hangars and tarmac and chain-link fences. Military police waved them through checkpoints, scanning badges and checking lists. Her mother's ID got them past every barrier without question. The commander's wife. The commander's daughter.
VIP parking. VIP entrance. VIP everything.
The stands were already half-full when they arrived. Aluminum bleachers draped in red, white, and blue bunting. A giant screen at the front displaying the schedule of events. Vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels and commemorative t-shirts.
Her mother led her to a section near the front. Reserved seating. Padded chairs instead of bleachers. A canopy overhead to block the sun.
"This is nice," Luna said.
"It's excessive."
"Dad's idea?"
"Your father believes in presentation."
They sat. Luna crossed her legs. Adjusted the hem of her dress. Tried not to check her phone every thirty seconds.
"The F-22 display is third," her mother said. "After the pararescue demonstration and the vintage aircraft flyover."
"I know."
"You've been studying the schedule."
"I may have looked it up."
Her mother smiled but said nothing.
The next hour passed in a blur of noise and color. The pararescue team rappelled from a helicopter, simulating a rescue in the middle of the tarmac. A trio of vintage planes—P-51 Mustangs, yellow and silver—roared overhead in formation. The crowd cheered. Kids waved flags. The announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, narrating every maneuver with practiced enthusiasm.
Luna watched but didn't see.
Her eyes kept drifting to the horizon. To the hangars in the distance. To the rows of F-22s lined up in a neat row, waiting for their moment.
Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand.
"He'll be fine."
"What?"
"Leo. He'll be fine."
Luna looked at her.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to." Her mother's eyes were soft. "You've been staring at those planes like they're going to disappear."
"I'm just—"
"Nervous?"
"Scared."
The word came out before she could stop it. Small and honest and raw.
Her mother didn't flinch.
"That's normal."
"Is it?"
"When your father was deployed, I used to watch the news every night. Just waiting for something to go wrong." She shook her head. "It never got easier."
"How did you handle it?"
"I didn't." She squeezed Luna's hand again. "I just kept going. One day at a time. One hour at a time. Sometimes one minute at a time."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It was." Her mother paused. "But he always came home. And that made it worth it."
Luna swallowed hard. Looked back at the horizon.
The announcer's voice crackled.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention to the runway. The United States Air Force F-22 Raptor demonstration team is about to begin."
The crowd hushed. Then erupted.
Luna's heart slammed against her ribs.
The first jet tore down the runway and launched into the sky like a bullet. The sound hit a second later—a deafening roar that shook the ground and rattled her teeth. She felt it in her chest. In her bones. In every cell of her body.
The second jet followed.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
They climbed and banked and rolled in perfect formation. Four silver arrows against a blue October sky. The announcer narrated their maneuvers—the loop, the split-S, the high-alpha pass—but Luna barely heard him. Her eyes were locked on the jets. On the way they moved. On the way they seemed to defy physics and logic and everything she understood about the world.
One of them broke formation. Climbed higher. Higher. Until it was just a speck against the sun.
Then it dropped.
Straight down. Nose to the ground. Plummeting like a stone.
Luna's breath caught.
The jet pulled up at the last second. So close to the tarmac she could see the heat shimmer beneath it. The crowd gasped. Then cheered. Then went wild.
Luna didn't cheer.
She couldn't.
Her hands were fists in her lap. Her nails bit into her palms. Her eyes were wide and wet and fixed on the sky.
She knew which one was Leo.
She didn't know how she knew. Maybe it was the way it moved. The way it seemed to dance, just a little different from the others. Or maybe it was just instinct. Just something in her gut that said that's him.
That's mine.
The display lasted eighteen minutes. Eighteen minutes of loops and rolls and dives and climbs. Eighteen minutes of her heart in her throat and her breath held tight in her chest.
When the jets finally landed, the crowd was still cheering. Luna was still trembling.
Her mother leaned over.
"You can breathe now."
Luna let out a shaky exhale. Then another. Then another.
"I didn't realize I wasn't."
"I know."
The pilots taxied to their designated area. Ground crews swarmed around them, checking systems and refueling and doing whatever it was they did. Luna watched through binoculars as canopies opened. As pilots climbed out.
She found him.
He was tall even from this distance. Broad shoulders. The way he walked—confident and easy and unhurried. He pulled off his helmet and shook out his hair. It was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He looked like he'd just run a marathon.
He looked like the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
The pilots huddled for a moment. Debrief. High-fives. Slaps on the back. Then they broke apart and started walking toward the VIP area.
Toward her.
Luna was out of her seat before she knew what she was doing.
"Leah—"
She heard her mother's voice behind her. Didn't stop. Didn't slow. She wove through the crowd. Past the security guard who tried to wave her back. Past the row of folding chairs and the cooler full of water bottles. Past everything.
Leo saw her coming.
His face split into a grin.
She didn't remember crossing the tarmac. Didn't remember the security guard yelling. Didn't remember anything except his arms opening and her body colliding with his.
He caught her. Lifted her. Spun her around like she weighed nothing.
The world blurred.
Sky and tarmac and faces and sound. All of it spinning. All of it perfect.
When he set her down, she was laughing. Crying. Both at once. His hands cupped her face and his mouth found hers and she kissed him like she'd been holding her breath for eighteen minutes and he was the only air she needed.
Someone wolf-whistled.
Someone else laughed.
Luna didn't care.
Leo pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were bright. His hair was still plastered to his forehead. He tasted like sweat and salt and something sweet.
"You watched," he said.
"Of course I watched."
"What did you think?"
"I think—" She shook her head. "I think I forgot how to breathe."
"That's usually a good sign."
"I thought you were going to die."
"I could see you the whole time." He touched her cheek. "Every pass. Every maneuver. I looked down and there you were."
"You couldn't see me."
"I could feel you." He kissed her forehead. "Corny?"
"Extremely."
"You love it."
She laughed. Kissed him again. Quick this time. Then again. She couldn't stop.
"Get a room," someone called.
Leo's squadron mates were standing a few feet away. Four of them in flight suits. Matching grins. One of them—a Black guy with a shaved head and a gold chain peeking out from his collar—shook his head.
"Maddox, you didn't tell us she was this pretty."
"Didn't want you getting any ideas, Jackson."
"Too late."
Luna buried her face in Leo's chest. His arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Her mother was standing at the edge of the VIP section. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised. The look on her face was something between amusement and warning.
"Your mom looks like she's about to ground you," Leo murmured.
"She's fine."
"She looks terrifying."
"That's just her face."
"I'm serious."
"Leo." Luna pulled back to look at him. "She said 'good' when she met you. That's practically a blessing."
"Really?"
"Really."
He exhaled. Some of the tension left his shoulders.
"Okay. So she doesn't hate me."
"She definitely doesn't hate you."
"Well, that's—"
Leo stopped.
His whole body went still.
Luna felt it. The shift. The way his pulse quickened under her hand. The way his eyes went hard and distant.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
She followed his gaze.
A figure was walking toward them. Tall. Broad. Dress blues with ribbons and medals and a presence that seemed to suck the air out of the space around him. Gray hair cut short. Jaw set. Eyes cold.
Colonel James Hartley.
Her father.
The dread hit her like a wave. Cold and heavy and absolute.
"Oh no."
The pilots noticed a second later. All four of them snapped to attention. Backs straight. Chins up. Hands at their sides.
The colonel stopped a few feet away. He didn't look at Luna. He didn't look at Leo. He looked at the lineup of pilots like a general inspecting troops.
"Gentlemen."
"Sir."
"Excellent display today."
"Thank you, sir."
"Your commanding officer tells me you've been training for months."
"Yes, sir."
"It shows." He paused. Let the silence stretch. Then: "You're dismissed."
The four pilots relaxed. But they didn't leave. They glanced at Leo. Uncertain. Waiting.
The colonel's eyes shifted.
"Maddox."
"Sir."
"You're not dismissed."
"Understood, sir."
The other pilots exchanged looks. Jackson clapped Leo on the shoulder. "Good luck, man." Then they were gone. Walking back toward the hangars. Leaving Leo alone.
Leaving Luna alone.
She was still standing beside him. His arm was still around her shoulders. She could feel his heart hammering against her hand.
Her father looked at her.
"Leah."
"Dad."
"You look nice."
"Thanks."
"New dress?"
"Yes."
"Looks expensive."
"Mom bought it."
"Did she?"
Luna's throat tightened.
"Dad, I can explain—"
"I'm sure you can." He turned to Leo. "Maddox. We've met."
"Yes, sir. On your doorstep. When I picked up your daughter for our second date."
"I remember."
"I expected to."
The silence was suffocating. Luna wanted to run. Wanted to disappear. Wanted to scream.
Her father's jaw worked. Like he was grinding his teeth.
"I didn't realize," he said slowly, "that you and my daughter were serious."
"It's recent, sir."
"How recent?"
"Three weeks. We were just—"
"Three weeks." He looked at Luna. "Three weeks and you're already throwing yourself at him in front of his entire squadron."
"Dad—"
"And the public."
"There's no—"
"Leah." His voice was sharp. Colder than she'd ever heard. "Go find your mother."
"No."
He blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"No." Luna stepped away from Leo. Not far. Just enough to stand on her own. "I'm not going to just go away so you can yell at him."
"I wasn't going to yell."
"You were."
Her father stared at her. She stared back.
Leo cleared his throat.
"Sir. With respect. I know this isn't—"
"Don't." The colonel's eyes snapped back to Leo. "Don't tell me what this isn't."
"Yes, sir."
"I know exactly what this is." He took a step closer. "This is my daughter, whom I've known for twenty-two years, whom I've watched grow up and fix her broken heart, being led around by a pilot who's known her for three weeks."
"He hasn't hurt me," Luna said.
"You don't know that."
"I know him."
"You knew Ethan too."
The words hit her like a slap.
She felt Leo stiffen beside her. Felt his arm tighten around her shoulders.
Her father's face was hard. Unyielding. But behind the anger, she saw something else. Fear. That was what it was. It was fear.
"Dad," she said quietly. "This isn't Ethan. This isn't the same thing."
"Then what is it?"
"It's—" She struggled for the words. "It's different. He's different."
"How?"
"I don't know how to explain it. He just—" She looked at Leo. "He sees me."
Her father looked at Leo too. Assessed him. Weighed him. Measured him the way he measured everything.
"Lieutenant Maddox."
"Sir."
"You've got a reputation."
"I know, sir."
"Good pilot."
"Thank you, sir."
"Fast flyer too. From what I hear."
"I don't fly fast on the ground, sir."
The corner of her father's mouth twitched. Just a fraction. Just a hint.
"I've heard that before."
"Yes, sir."
"From men who were lying."
"I'm not lying, sir."
The silence stretched.
Luna held her breath.
Her father looked at Leo the way IED techs looked at suspicious objects. Like he was dangerous and unstable and could go off at any second. Like he was considering whether to neutralize him or walk away.
"If you hurt my daughter," he said finally, "I won't need a court-martial to make your life a living hell."
"I understand, sir."
"Do you?"
The question hung in the air between them. Her father's eyes were flint. Leo's jaw was set. The tarmac wind whipped around them, carrying the distant roar of a departing C-130 and the smell of jet fuel.
"I do, sir."
"Then you understand that I've heard that before."
"Sir?"
"From every pilot who's ever looked at my daughter like she was a prize to be won." Her father's voice was low, controlled. "You think I don't know your type?"
"Dad—"
"Quiet, Leah."
Luna's mouth snapped shut. Her hands were shaking. She shoved them into the pockets of her dress.
Leo didn't flinch. Didn't look away. His posture was straight, his hands at his sides, his eyes locked on the colonel's face.
"I'm not asking for your permission, sir."
"Good. Because you wouldn't get it."
"I'm asking for a chance."
"A chance." Her father laughed. It was a cold sound. "How many chances have you had, Lieutenant? How many women have you promised the same thing?"
"None, sir."
"Bullshit."
"I've never promised anyone anything." Leo's voice was steady. "Until your daughter."
"Pretty words."
"They're not words, sir. They're the truth."
Her father stepped closer. Close enough that Luna could smell his cologne. Close enough that she could see the vein throbbing in his temple.
"The truth is that you have a reputation. The truth is that you've been seen with a different woman every weekend for the past two years. The truth is that my daughter is recovering from a relationship that nearly destroyed her, and the last thing she needs is another man who's going to use her and throw her away when he gets bored."
"That's not—"
"That's exactly what's going to happen." Her father's voice cracked. Just a little. Just enough. "Because that's what always happens. And I'm not going to stand here and watch it again."
Luna felt something break inside her.
Not her heart. Something deeper. Something older. The wall she'd built after Ethan. The armor she'd worn for two years. It crumbled.
"Stop."
Her voice was small. But it cut through the air like a blade.
Her father turned.
"Leah—"
"No." She stepped forward. Her eyes were wet. Her hands were fists. "You don't get to do this."
"Do what?"
"This." She gestured between them. "You don't get to stand there and pretend you know him. You don't get to pretend you know me."
"I know you better than anyone."
"Do you?" She laughed. It was broken. "Do you know that I haven't slept through the night in two years? Do you know that I flinch when men stand too close to me? Do you know that I've been seeing a therapist since Ethan because I couldn't stop blaming myself for what he did?"
Her father's face went pale.
"Leah—"
"No." She held up a hand. "You don't get to talk. You get to listen."
The tarmac was silent. Even the distant crowd seemed to fade.
"I met Leo three weeks ago. He didn't know who I was. He didn't know who you were. He just saw a girl in a bar who looked scared and he sat with her until she wasn't."
"He's a pilot—"
"Stop." Her voice broke. "Just stop."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away.
"You think you're protecting me. You think you're keeping me from getting hurt again. But you're not. You're just pushing me away."
"That's not—"
"Leo isn't Ethan." Her voice was raw. "Leo doesn't want me for my body. He doesn't want me for the attention. He doesn't want me because I'm an egirl or because he thinks I'll be easy."
"Then what does he want?"
"He wants me." She looked at Leo. At his steady eyes and his quiet strength. "He wants me to watch him fly. He wants to make me laugh. He wants to sit in a diner and share fries and talk about my thesis."
Her father was silent.
"He asked me to come today. Not because he wanted to show off. Because he wanted me to see him do the thing he loves most in the world." She wiped her face with the back of her hand. "And instead of watching him land and celebrating with him, I'm standing here watching you tear him apart."
"I'm not tearing him—"
"You are." Her voice cracked again. "You've been tearing him apart since the moment you saw him. And I can't—"
She stopped. Her chest heaved. Her whole body was shaking.
"I can't do this."
She turned.
"Leah—"
She didn't stop. She ran.
Past the VIP section. Past the confused faces and the security guards and the rows of folding chairs. Past her mother, who called her name. Past everything.
Her feet pounded against the tarmac. The white trainers were ruined. The dress was stained with tears and dust. She didn't care.
She rounded the corner of a hangar. The metal was warm from the sun. The shadow was cool and dark and empty.
She leaned against the wall. Slid down until she was sitting. Pulled her knees to her chest.
And cried.
The sound was ugly. Raw. The kind of crying she hadn't done since the night she'd found out what Ethan really was. The kind she'd sworn she'd never do again.
She'd ruined it. She'd ruined everything.
Leo would never forgive her. His squadron had seen. Her father had humiliated him in front of everyone. And she'd just stood there like a coward before running away like a child.
She pressed her hands to her face. The tears leaked through her fingers.
She didn't hear the footsteps.
She didn't hear him until he was there.
"Luna."
His voice was soft. Close.
She looked up.
He was crouched in front of her. Flight suit still on. Hair still plastered to his forehead. Eyes full of something she couldn't name.
"You followed me."
"Of course I followed you."
"I ran away."
"I noticed."
She laughed. It came out wet and broken.
"I ruined everything."
"You didn't ruin anything."
"I did." She wiped her face. "My dad—he was so awful to you. And everyone saw. And I just—"
"Hey." He reached out. Cupped her face in his hands. "Look at me."
She looked.
"He wasn't wrong."
"What?"
"I do have a reputation." His thumb brushed her cheek. "I have been with a lot of women. And I understand why he's scared."
"You're not—"
"I'm not done." He smiled. Just a little. "He's scared because he loves you. And I get that. Because if I had a daughter and some fighter pilot with a long list of one-night stands showed up at my door, I'd probably want to punch him too."
"I'm not a one-night stand."
"No." He kissed her forehead. "You're not."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm saying it because it's true."
She looked at him. At his steady eyes. At the tiny scar above his eyebrow that she hadn't noticed before.
"I thought you'd leave."
"I know."
"I thought you'd decide I wasn't worth it."
"I know."
"I thought—"
He kissed her.
Soft. Slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that took its time. That didn't rush. That said everything words couldn't.
When he pulled back, she was breathless.
"Better?" he asked.
She nodded. Sniffled. Wiped her nose with her sleeve.
"You look ridiculous," he said.
"Thanks."
"No, I mean—" He gestured at her. "You're sitting on the ground in a white dress. And you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"You're lying."
"I'm not." His eyes traveled down. Slowly. Deliberately. "That dress is something else, by the way."
"Leo—"
"I mean it." His voice dropped. Lower. Thicker. "The way it fits. The little pink flowers. And the socks—"
He shook his head.
"What about the socks?"
"I'm not going to say it."
"Say it."
"If I say it, I'll sound like a creep."
"You already sound like a creep."
He leaned close. His mouth brushed her ear.
"I want to peel them off you with my teeth."
Her breath caught.
"That's—"
"Too much?"
"No." She swallowed. "Not too much."
She looked at him. Really looked. The flight suit was tight across his shoulders. The fabric was dark, almost black, streaked with sweat and dust. It hugged every muscle. Every line. Every inch of him.
"You look—" She couldn't finish.
"I look what?"
"Good." She reached out. Touched his chest. "You look really good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
His eyes darkened. Something passed between them. Something electric. Something that made her forget about her father and her tears and the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a ruined dress.
He kissed her again.
Deeper this time. Hungrier. His hands slid into her hair. Her hands gripped the front of his flight suit. Pulled him closer.
She didn't know how it happened.
One minute they were on the ground. The next they were moving. He pulled her up. She stumbled. He caught her. His mouth never left hers.
The hangar had a small office attached. A side door. Rusty handle. He fumbled for it. Turned it. Pushed.
The door swung open.
They tumbled inside.
The room was small. Dark. Smelled like coffee and old paper and something metallic. A desk. A chair. A filing cabinet. Files stacked on every surface. A window with the blinds drawn.
Luna didn't care. Couldn't care. All she could feel was Leo. His hands. His mouth. His body pressed against hers. The wall at her back.
He pinned her there. Not rough. Just—present. His forehead rested against hers.
"We shouldn't," he murmured.
"You're right."
"We're on a military base."
"I know."
"Your father is probably looking for us."
"Probably."
She pulled him closer by the front of his suit.
"I don't care."
He laughed. Low and rough.
"Thank God."
His mouth found hers again. And the world outside—the tarmac, the crowd, the colonel with the cold eyes—vanished.