Page 101 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“I guess.”

Zach watches our stunted conversation. “Jesus, Mi. I need to give you some fucking education on talking to women. How are we even related?”

Micah glares at him. “Please shut up.”

“Charming. Love you too, brother.”

Sweat beads across my forehead while they exchange heated barbs. I fight a fresh wave of dizziness and grab another cold beer to hold against my head. I’m flitting between hot and cold, which is worsening my nausea.

As Zach opens his mouth to question me, Aalia arrives with Amie propped on her hip. She’s wearing a beautiful, flowing dress, the bright yellow and blue flowers perfectly matching her olive-toned skin and glossy dark hair.

“Hey!” I blurt, grateful for the distraction.

She offers me a bright smile. “Hi, Willow.”

“You made it. Thanks for coming.”

“Thank you for the delivery. You’re spoiling us.”

After visiting her cabin, I wrote down my mental list and handed it to Miranda for this month’s supply run. After Albie delivered the several boxes full of kitchen equipment and basics, Aalia now has everything she needs in the house.

“If you want anything else, let me know.”

“You’re too kind, really.”

Amie squeals, demanding her mum’s attention. While Aalia digs around in her bag, Zach takes the baby and makes crazy facial expressions to quieten her screams for food.

“Cute kid,” he grumbles. “I think I want one.”

Micah chokes on a laugh. “You can’t look after a fucking potted plant.”

“Hey, language! She might hear you, dickhead.”

“Babies don’t understand shit.”

The sight of Zach with an infant in his broad arms nearly causes me to choke on thin air. I wouldn’t have thought such a sight would make me feel so many strange things. He looks far too comfortable bouncing the baby in his arms.

Returning with several platefuls piled high with food, Killian unceremoniously dumps one in front of me. His glare is already in place, issuing a silent demand. Carrying his own food, Ryder’s trying his best not to laugh.

“Food. Eat,” Killian orders.

“Um, thanks?”

Leaning against the side of the gazebo, he ploughs into enough food to feed a family of four. It all disappears into his mouth, one bite after another. It’s no wonder he’s the size of a house, even if it is all muscle.

“How come she gets food, and I don’t?” Zach whines.

“Get your own, kid.”

I study my plate of food, but it makes me feel even more ill. Food is the last thing I want to think about right now. There’s so much of it around here, with zero strings attached.

You can eat when you learn some obedience.

No more crying, bitch.

Open your goddamn legs.

Eating was the first line of punishment in the mansion. I’d often be refused food by the staff who were under orders from Mr Sanchez and keen to avoid his wrath.

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