Back To You | B. Bradshaw

05.00

Poppy was cleaning out the underbelly of the F-19 her dad flew. She let out a few curses as some dirt fell on her face. Holding back a groan, she steps out from underneath and wipes her face with the rag hanging from her belt. Her patience was wearing thin from the two idiots she calls her family. She hears the hangar door open, assuming it's Harry to check up on her when she sent the older man home. 

"Now is not a good time, Harry." She said, frustrated, and dug around the toolbox looking for the power drill. Hearing no response, she holds back another groan. She rubs her face in frustration before turning around. 

"Look, I'm sorry for what my dad did with the jets. He got his ego checked already by the admirals and me... you're not Harry."

Standing in front of her was not Harry, but Bradley fucking Bradshaw. The very man she was trying to avoid in this assignment, but it seems like fate got other plans. The man was no longer wearing his flight gear but his standard navy pilot suit, his shades hanging by his neck. 

"Pops." He breathes out, his eyes not leaving hers with a touch of painful regret and longing. 

No, she can't handle this today, she thought. She shakes her head before turning around and quickly packing her stuff. 

"Poppy." 

"Lieutenant, last I checked, office hours are over."

"I thought we could talk."

"We have nothing to talk about, Lieutenant."

"Poppy."

"I'm afraid you have to leave, sir. I need to close up the hangar bay."

She says firmly, walking away from him and towards the toolshed. 

"Flower!"

She stops when she hears her old nickname. The only nickname that she deemed his to belong when they were kids. Her heart pounding loudly in her chest. 

"Please."

She slowly turns around to look at him. Still standing in the same spot, Bradley gulps as he looks at her. 

"What are you doing here, Bradley."

"I'm here to talk."

Poppy scoffs at his response. The last time they talked was 17 years ago, and he made it very clear that he never wanted to see or speak with her again. 

"That's rich coming from you." 

"Poppy, Please"

"Go Home, Bradshaw. I have nothing to say to you." She says, turning back around and leaving him there. She hears him approach her, and she quickens her pace. 

"Poppy, we need to talk."

"We are talking right now."

"That's not what I meant."

He grabs hold of her arm; she turns and looks at the pilot, dropping her toolkit in the process. Clenching her jaw in frustration, she saw slight guilt in Bradley's eyes. Pulling her arm out of his grip, she fully turns to him and lifts her arms. 

"Okay, fine. You got my attention. What do you want to talk about?"

Not expecting her to agree that quickly, she watches Bradley hesitate in speaking. She feels a slight headache forming in her head, she closes her eyes. Fed up and tired from the day, she walks away again. Not caring about the pile of tools on the floor, she just needed to get away from him. 

"No, wait, Poppy. Poppy, wait."

"No! You had your chance, Bradshaw."

"You need to calm down." He sighs, obviously frustrated from their banter. She turned back to him violently, anger seeping into her bones and stalking up to his face and pointing a finger at him.