Page 139 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“It didn’t sound like that from what I heard the other morning,” Ryder mutters, his face buried in instructions. “Innocent isn’t the word I’d use for those sounds.”

Willow’s cheeks flame a bright red colour. “Um.”

“Nothing to say?” Ryder winks at her. “That’s a first.”

Maintaining a stony expression that gives nothing away, I almost break cover when Zach starts full belly laughing. We all heard him screwing Willow in the shower at the weekend. I’m surprised they didn’t wake the whole damn town up.

“Don’t act all coy,” Ryder throws at me. “I know full well that you joined in too.”

Still, I don’t let my façade crack. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Might be time to invest in some headphones,” Zach adds.

Ryder tosses the instructions over his shoulder with a sigh. “You guys should be happy I have zero interest in the female species. It was like a live porno in my back garden.”

Willow flames bright red. “I’m sorry, Ry. We’ll be quieter.”

“You’re lucky it’s just us up here. Lola would skin both of you bastards alive if she knew what you were doing to her precious granddaughter on a daily basis.”

“I’m going to get on with dinner,” Willow interjects in a squeaky voice, retreating back to the safety of the kitchen. “Chop chop. Tables don’t build themselves.”

Admittedly, we may have gotten carried away recently. She has no idea the effect she has on me, and I’m not going to apologise for finally enjoying what’s mine. Fuck anyone who doesn’t like it.

Catching Zach’s distracted gaze, I watch him shamelessly checking out Willow’s ass, highlighted by the skinny blue jeans she’s wearing with a flowing white blouse. I snap my fingers in front of his face, bringing him back to the present.

“You gonna sit there gawking or actually help us?”

Zach shrugs. “I can’t do both?”

“No. Stop eye-fucking Willow and focus already.”

“Eye-fucking?” he repeats.

“You know exactly what I mean. I’m surprised you weren’t drooling too.”

He flips me the bird and crouches down next to Ryder, picking the discarded instructions back up. Between the three of us, we have the table and chairs all constructed after another hour and lots of colourful cursing.

I could have built something better in my sleep, but Willow insisted on buying her own furniture for her first real home. This is the most we’ve ever seen her smile. It’s been a long rough patch since the miscarriage, but she’s coming back to us, day by day.

We need to keep her distracted and focused on the future. Those endless weeks of blank faces and silence were fucking agony. I felt powerless as she pushed me even further away. That can never happen again, no matter what we have to do to bring her back.

Handing out a round of ice cold beers, we gather in the living room, surrounded by paint pots and brushes. Willow changed her mind on the last colour we used and chose a deep turquoise for the walls instead to match the dark wood finishes.

“Interesting colour,” I complain.

Ryder rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Willow likes it.”

“I’m doubting my skills a bit here,” Zach worries.

“Fuck it up and you have to fix it.”

“Awesome,” he drawls. “Very helpful.”

Setting himself up with a fresh roller to go over the last colour, Zach ends up getting more paint on himself than the actual wall. Leaving him to make even more mess, I work on securing several abstract paintings that Micah gifted Willow last week.

“Giant! Giant!”

Bursting through the front door, Arianna toes off her sandals and rushes at me without stopping for a breath. I catch her mid-stride before she knocks over a paint can, twirling her in the air before placing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

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