Page 12 of Revival

Mom broke that rule the day after I moved my meager possessions in.

Cortney digs out a large pair of headphones, slipping them over her ears as she mutters, “You’re unbelievable.”

I pull away the covering over her left ear. “It’s just a vacation,” I husk in her ear, then pat the headphones back into place.

She shoots me a glare. It’s cute. I’d tell her as much if I didn’t think she’d bite my head off.

The plane starts to level out near altitude, and my heart beats a normal rhythm again. I glance out the window until the thick clouds part to reveal the patches of land thousands of feet below. The window shade slides shut with an audible snap.

“Do you mind opening that back up?” Cortney snaps.

“Should’ve switched me seats.” I lean a shoulder against the offending window shade. “This is my window seat now.”

She yanks off her headphones. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“If this is the attitude you gave old what’s-his-face, I’m not surprised he didn’t want to sit in this seat next to you.”

“Where did you hear that?” Cortney drops her phone to her lap.

I lift a single shoulder. “Through the vine. Probably came from your brothers to mine.”

“That’s what they said? That he didn’t want to be here with me?”

“Something like that.” I don’t actually fucking know, but if she can dish it, she can take it. She isn’t the only person on this plane licking invisible wounds.

“Get your fucking facts straight before you open your big mouth, Spencer.”

The clack of her seat belt rings loud between us. She jumps up, and something thuds to the floor as she escapes our row.

“You dropped something,” I call out, but she’s already rushing away.

I find her phone near my right foot, noticing the screen is lit up. A video is paused on the screen, and by the compromising position of the two people, I can guess what type of video this is.

I might not have seen Cortney Powell for two decades, but I know a few facts about her. She’s beautiful. She’s pure class. She has a sassy mouth, and she’s not the type of woman to sit on a flight with her headphones on and watch homemade pornography like she’s indulging in a cutesy romcom.

It doesn’t take a genius to sift through the possibilities to arrive at the right one.

Cortney’s fiancé cheated on her. And she’s torturing herself with the evidence of that betrayal.

“Fuck,” I mutter, unbuckling my belt with uncertain hands. I rush up the aisle with her phone clutched in my grip, arriving just as someone exits the bathroom, only for her to duck in.

I slip my hand into the shrinking crack.

Her fearful expression vanishes as the door reveals my face. She sighs, the first sign of exhaustion I’ve seen since I boarded this plane. “What are you doing?”

I close the door at my back and slide the lock into place. “This is what that fucker did?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why’re you looking at it?”

“I opened it by accident.”

“It’s paused halfway through.”

She runs her tongue over her plump lips and skitters her attention into the corner of the tiny room. “I just needed to be sure.”

I glance at the screen before turning it back in her direction. “Looks crystal clear to me. What more could you need to be sure of?”

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