Sometimes the only thing you need to identify is who to give your heart to.
I’d degenerated from a legal assistant to a tabloid reporter to another girl swooning over a hot pilot. How badly was my life devolving? And Why?
Money–Simple as that!
Turns out I needed more excitement than my job as a legal assistant could offer, and in two poorly chosen moves, I’d gotten myself fired. Money was too tight to flounder for a month so as much as I hated doing it, I accepted my dad’s offer to pursue a story that had been leaked by his Air Force insider.
All I had to do was get the pilot to make a public statement verifying the incident, details optional. Vague enough. How hard could it be?
Then I got the pilot’s picture and bio. He didn’t look bona fide crazy. He exuded confidence and respect–the uniform totally helped. He’d served in combat. Had won medals. Basically, he was perfect. And he wanted nothing to do with a hack tabloid reporter.
How could I choose between paying my bills and landing the pilot?
I reported a questionable incident, answered the committee’s questions, and agreed to keep my mouth shut. Serving in the military was my life, and I wouldn’t do anything to put national security at risk.
But the other pilot who’d witnessed the situation had commented about it on social media and promptly disappeared.
In the midst of drowning out the chaos, I should have welcomed the beautiful woman who approached me at the bar. She could have been the perfect outlet to help me forget as much as possible. But all she wanted me to do was remember. And she knew about my confidential report.
Could she offer answers about what happened to my friend, or would talking to her guarantee I’d be dishonorably discharged? Was my heart getting in the way of making the right decision?