Page 141 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Scowling at him, Willow flies across the room. She tosses her arms around Micah and this time, there isn’t a second of doubt. He presses their lips together, despite us all watching them embrace. When they part, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you both like it,” he offers quietly.

“Like it? Your work should be in a gallery or something.”

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

“Stop being so modest,” I answer. “This is crazy good.”

Micah rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks, Kill.”

Retreating from the room, he mumbles about getting cleaned up. I know he’s still struggling to adjust to being around people, but he gets better at it with each passing day. Willow’s presence in our lives has broken through his icy lake of solitude.

We leave Arianna to dance around her finished bedroom and return to the kitchen. Zach and Micah lay the newly built table with flower-spotted plates and shining cutlery, allowing me to sneak up behind Willow and band my arms around her waist.

“Whatcha cooking?”

She wiggles her butt against me. “Tamales.”

“Mexican, huh? Another dish from home?”

“Yeah. It’s all I know how to cook.”

“Who taught you? The chef?”

Willow falls silent as she stirs the homemade salsa, staring into its herby depths. I hate it when she zones out like this. It’s like I can see her falling over the edge of a cliff.

“Come back, baby.”

“Sorry… it’s just stuff.”

“Talk to me. I’m listening.”

Her head lowers in defeat. “My friend… he died back in Mexico. Arianna still asks about him sometimes.”

Turning Willow’s frame in my arms, I cup her suntanned cheeks. The summer has brought out these gorgeous freckles and imperfections that pepper her cheeks and nose, but her hazel eyes are still haunted, brimming with secrets.

“What happened to him?” I ask softly.

Tears pool in her eyes. “It took more than just me to get us out of that place, Kill. He was the only friend I ever had. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.”

I stuff the automatic feelings of jealousy down where they can’t see the light of day. Willow doesn’t need to know how pathetic I am, envious of her relying on another man.

If I’d known where she was, I’d have broken her out myself. It wouldn’t have mattered that she was a stranger then. I’m physically incapable of standing by while good people suffer, and only the scum of the earth would abuse a mother and her innocent child.

“How did he die?”

“Shot,” she croaks.

“Shit, Willow. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” She blinks aside tears, her mask sliding back into place. “He’s dead and I can’t bring him back, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

My thumbs stroke over her blemished skin. “I think it does, but I get it. I know what it’s like to lose people. I’m here if you want to talk.”

She bites her lip. “I’m trying, Kill. Being vulnerable is hard for me.”

“I know, baby. I’m trying too. I’ll back off, but I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me the whole story. Just know that you won’t scare me off, no matter what you say.”

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