Life Before Damaged Vol. 8 (The Ferro Family) by H. M. Ward

WHEN RADIOACTIVE SAUSAGES CAN FLY
October 19th, 2:56pm
    “ I ’m going to be sick.” I try to swallow but my heart is in the way. It’s stuck in my throat, and has been there since we took off.
    “You’re not going to be sick.”
    The pitch of my voice rises as I ramble, "Are you sure this is safe? The plane is too little. I mean, look at it. I can reach the tip of the wing from here.” I can’t, not really, but it’s so tiny. “It can’t possibly be safe to have so many people shoved in a shoebox with wings. We're sitting on the floor for crying out loud! What if we’re too heavy? I saw that guy looking at us before he took some of the gas off the plane. What if we crash?"
    The plane shudders and I tense before leaning into Philip a little bit more. He's sitting behind me with his legs on either side of mine, his arms wrapped around my waist. I feel him chuckle, before dropping a kiss on my head.
    My stomach is close to jumping out of my mouth. Where are the puke baggies?
    "Relax, Gina. The plane won't break. Trust me. Even if it did, we're already wearing parachutes. We couldn't be safer."
    Philip's fingers gently push my ponytail to the side, and he nuzzles my neck. He's doing his best to reassure me, but it's not working.
    "Uh, no. You all have parachutes strapped to your backs. I don't. I only have a harness, remember? No parachute for Gina! Gina just gets this neon pink jumpsuit. I look like a radioactive sausage and everyone knows what happens to those!"
    In contrast, Philip looks like a freaking model. His sleek black jumpsuit clings to his toned form and accentuates just how fit he really is. Bright red rolls lining his arms serve as handles for other skydivers to grab onto when they do free fall group formations. The thought makes my stomach roll. I rest the back of my head on his hard chest and close my eyes.
    “It’s okay.”
    I swallow hard and peel my eyes open. "Why did I agree to do this?"
    "Because you love the rush just as much as I do? Because your schoolwork is wearing you down?"
    "Oh yeah, right, school."
    That's the lame excuse I gave him to explain the funk I've been in since my last meeting with Pete. I still can't force myself to tell him the truth.
    The past month has gone by so fast. I’ve spent most of my time studying and going to wild parties at the swing club. It’s been amazing.
    As an added bonus--or complication--Philip and his group of skydiving buddies started hanging out at Ricky's club. It's become their turf. I try to keep my distance, but I like him--a lot--and resisting him is becoming harder and harder.
    Philip is a gentleman, never pushing for more than stolen kisses and gentle touches, but I can tell he wants more. Part of me wants that, too. It's flattering to be with someone who wants me and only me, someone whose eyes never wander. But a bigger part of me is still hesitant.
    It’s becoming increasingly difficult to find excuses for why I can't invite him up to my apartment or why I can't go back to his place. The truth is I need to come clean with him about my future engagement to Pete before I can go to bed with him.
    Philip is a good man with honest values. He deserves a devoted girlfriend, someone available to one day share his name. A relationship with me would reduce him to be the illicit lover of another man's wife. My fate is fixed while his is fluid.
    Philip should be the center of a woman's universe--not her side dish.
    I hate holding back the truth from him, but Constance is already angry with me. My new 40's pinup look doesn't jive with the wholesome, good girl image I used to have, and it's pissing her off. If she discovered I told someone outside our families about her little blackmailing scheme, I'm pretty sure she'd skin me and throw my hide on her boardroom floor.
    Then there's Pete.
    My failure to rein in her son has her seething even more.
    Peter Ferro.
    My heart clenches at the thought of him. The tabloids claim he's been whoring it up again,