Chapter 2 — First Flight, First Clash

Third Person

The jet bridge vibrated faintly beneath Izzy’s feet, the rhythmic clatter of rolling suitcases blending with the muffled hum of engines outside. It was a sound she knew well, a prelude to countless journeys. She adjusted her uniform, smoothing nonexistent creases in a practiced motion, her nerves quietly humming. Ahead, the cabin door stood like a portal to her first flight under Captain Lucas Hayes. Their earlier introduction in the lounge had left an impression, not a flattering one. Lucas’s handshake had been brisk, his tone clipped, his piercing blue eyes cool and unreadable. There might have been a flicker of curiosity in his gaze, but she quickly dismissed it. If there was any warmth beneath that steely exterior, it was buried deep.

Stepping inside the cabin, Izzy took a measured breath, letting the familiar scent of leather seats and recycled air ground her. This was her space—a world she could navigate with confidence. “Welcome aboard,” she said to the first passengers, her voice warm and inviting. Each greeting steadied her, the routine wrapping around her like a shield.

Mia appeared at her side, her vibrant scarf trailing behind her like a banner of defiance against uniformity. "So," Mia whispered, her tone dripping with mischief, "what did you think of Captain Charm?"

Izzy kept her eyes on the boarding passengers, her lips twitching into a restrained smile. "You mean Captain Hayes? He’s… efficient."

Mia snorted, adjusting her scarf dramatically. "Efficient? That’s a polite way of saying he’s colder than the freezer aisle in a grocery store. Did he even say a full sentence to you?"

"Enough to say hello and remind me he’s all business," Izzy replied, still focused on scanning the aisle.

Mia leaned closer, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Mark my words, Iz. Even icebergs melt eventually. And if anyone can manage it, it’s you."

Izzy rolled her eyes, though the comment lingered. Could someone like Lucas Hayes thaw? He carried an air of stoic control, like a man who’d built walls so high nothing could breach them. But the thought was fleeting—her attention shifted back to the passengers, some of whom already looked uneasy. This was her domain, after all, and if turbulence was coming, she’d be ready.

As the cabin filled, Izzy moved through the aisle, her movements fluid and deliberate. She helped an elderly woman hoist her bag into the overhead bin, crouched beside a young boy to retrieve a dropped toy, and stopped to reassure a man gripping his armrests with pale knuckles. "First flight?" she asked softly.

The man nodded, his fingers tightening.

"You’re in good hands," Izzy said with a calm smile. "Flying’s one of the safest ways to travel. Think of it like a really fancy bus ride with a better view."

The man’s grip loosened slightly, his smile faint but genuine. Izzy straightened, her composure unwavering as she made her way back to the galley. Mia caught her eye, giving her a playful thumbs-up. Izzy shook her head with a small smile but said nothing.

The routine of takeoff settled her further, the familiar cadence of safety demonstrations and passenger interactions a steady rhythm. As the engines roared to life and the plane ascended smoothly, Izzy allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction. But her calm was short-lived—the seatbelt sign blinked on with a chime, and Lucas’s voice came over the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Hayes. We’re encountering mild turbulence ahead. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. Cabin crew, prepare the cabin.”

His voice was steady, measured, and utterly devoid of warmth. Izzy exchanged a glance with Mia, who raised an eyebrow. "Here we go," Mia muttered, tightening her scarf.

The plane jolted, eliciting scattered gasps. Izzy instinctively braced herself against the galley counter before immediately stepping back into the aisle. She moved with calm efficiency, checking seatbelts and offering reassuring smiles. "You’re perfectly safe," she told an older woman gripping the armrest. "Planes are built to handle this."

As she moved further down, a young woman near the window caught her eye. Pale and trembling, she was staring at the vibrating wing outside, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Izzy knelt beside her, speaking gently. "Hi there. It’s okay—this is normal. Just a little bump in the road."

The woman didn’t respond, her wide eyes fixed on the window. Izzy placed a packet of tissues in her lap, her voice soft but firm. "Take a deep breath with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. Imagine someplace peaceful—a quiet garden, a sunny beach. Whatever makes you feel calm."

The woman’s breathing slowed, her grip on the armrest loosening. She glanced at Izzy, managing a faint, "Thank you."

Izzy smiled warmly. "You’re doing great. Just keep breathing. I’ll check on you again soon."

By the time Izzy returned to the galley, the turbulence had eased. Mia greeted her with an approving look. "Passenger whisperer strikes again," she quipped.

Before Izzy could respond, the cockpit door opened with a sharp click, and Lucas stepped out. His presence filled the small space, his expression unreadable as his eyes fixed on her. "Miss Grant," he said, his tone clipped, "a word?"

Izzy hesitated, glancing at Mia, who gave her an exaggerated look of sympathy. Resigned, Izzy followed Lucas to the edge of the galley, her posture impeccable and her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"Yes, Captain?"

Lucas’s voice was low, precise. "I noticed you spent considerable time with a passenger during the turbulence."

Izzy blinked. "She was frightened. I was reassuring her."

His jaw tightened slightly. "While I appreciate your concern, your primary responsibility during turbulence is to secure the cabin. Prolonged attention to one passenger compromises that."

A flicker of frustration sparked in Izzy’s chest, but she kept her tone even. "Calming a frightened passenger is part of securing the cabin, Captain. Panic can escalate quickly if left unchecked."

Lucas’s gaze remained steady, though his lips pressed into a thin line. "Protocol exists for a reason, Miss Grant. Ensure it’s followed."

Izzy bit back a sharper reply, forcing herself to remain composed. "Understood, Captain. If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to my duties."

Lucas studied her for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place—irritation, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Carry on."

As Lucas disappeared back into the cockpit, Izzy exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Mia sidled up beside her, her grin barely contained.

"What’d the Ice King want this time?" she asked, her voice low but teasing.

Izzy shook her head. "Apparently, I need to stop calming people down and start ignoring them."

Mia snorted. "Classic protocol nonsense. Don’t sweat it. That man probably has a checklist for how to frown properly."

Izzy laughed quietly, the knot of frustration loosening. But as she returned to the cabin, Lucas’s critique lingered, gnawing at the edges of her confidence. Was he right? Should she have been more focused on protocol? The thought unsettled her, but she pushed it aside, letting her professionalism carry her forward.

Meanwhile, back in the cockpit, Lucas settled into his seat, his jaw still tight. Ethan glanced at him, his hazel eyes keen with curiosity. "Something up?" he asked, adjusting his headset.

Lucas stared ahead, watching the horizon blur into soft blues and whites. After a moment, he replied, "Miss Grant… she’s different."

Ethan’s brow lifted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Different how? Different good, or different you’re-plotting-a-lecture?"

Lucas shot him a sharp look, but Ethan only chuckled. "Relax, Captain. You might actually like her if you let yourself."

Lucas didn’t respond immediately. His grip on the controls tightened briefly before relaxing again. Izzy Grant was different, no doubt about it. What unsettled him was the realization that she’d left an impression—something that hadn’t happened in a long time.