Page 45 of Wicked Devotions

It’s the sincerest I’ve ever seen him be.

Trusting him to fly me in this tiny plane feels like a big step, especially when we can’t stop bickering on solid ground. But I find myself sitting inside it anyway. He leans over me to close the door, his cedar and citrus scent and warmth momentarily comforting me.

I watch him buckle himself into the harness and attempt to do the same. The belt is twisted, though, and I have trouble figuring out how to fix it. He notices me struggling and covers my hands with his.

“Let me,” he says softly.

I drop my hands and let him untwist the straps. He smooths them over and then lays them over my shoulders. After he buckles me in, he runs his fingers under the straps to double check them. His face is inches from mine, but while he’s focused on securing me, I can’t stop staring at the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips.

Said lips twist upwards as the back of his knuckles brush over my breasts. “Oops.”

I can’t say a word, too afraid of my own voice betraying me. A light brush over my nipples shouldn’t immediately turn me on. Especially when the person who did it is my stepbrother.

“That’s not an apology,” I finally manage to say after he gives me a headset.

“I’m not sorry.”

Before I can retort, he rattles off a string of numbers and letters to air traffic control. I tune it all out as I look out the window while he maneuvers the plane down to the end of the runway. My fingers grip the seat as he revs the engine and we go racing down the strip of pavement and the ground drops away beneath us.

I look out the window as he continues speaking to someone about altitudes and other things beyond my comprehension. The sky is clear, and the sun is bright. I’m glad he told me to wear a good pair of sunglasses.

After a few minutes I turn my attention from the window to him. His hands are loosely on the controls as he relaxes back into the seat. He looks at peace, the usually stern set of his face is gone, andfor once he actually looks his age. Like a carefree twenty-something guy without untold weight resting on his shoulders.

He notices me watching him and lifts his hand off of the controls. “Look, no hands.”

I squeal his name which only makes him laugh. “Hands on the wheel.”

“It’s called a yoke.” He puts his hands back on it, his eyes still crinkling with a smile. “It controls the ailerons.”

I stare blankly at his explanation.

“Roll and pitch.” He moves the yoke to the side and the plane turns. “That’s roll.” Then he pulls back and the plane tilts upward. “This is pitch.”

“So turning left and right and going up and down.”

“Essentially.”

He spends the rest of the flight explaining what all the gauges and buttons are and their function. The more he talks, the more questions I have. He never makes me feel dumb for asking the simplest question. At one point he even asks if I want to fly the plane for a minute, to which I promptly answer no. I’ll leave the flying to the expert.

As he gets back on the radio and listsoff another bunch of letters and numbers with someone, I find myself not wanting to get back on the ground. It’s been so nice to just be with him while he was so happy. I want more of him like this.

Unfortunately, this side of him disappears as soon as the plane touches back down on solid ground. It’s obvious why when, as soon as he pulls the plane into a hanger, the door to my right is opened and Cillian is standing on the wing.

His face is drawn tight with clear concern as he holds his hand out to help me up. I allow him to help me back down and walk over to where Mom is waiting with a big smile on her face. She wraps me a hug which I gladly return. Every time I see her, she looks healthier.

“I can’t wait to hear everything about your first few weeks of college,” she gushes as she releases me.

“It’s been better than I thought it would be.”

Unfortunately, Declan’s reunion with his father isn’t going as well as mine is with my mom. When they join us carrying the luggage, both their faces are drawn tight. It’s clear that they’ve been arguing, albeit quiet enough not to interrupt us.

Mom walks over to Declan and gives him a hug. “Thanks for getting her to me safe.”

He returns the embrace. “Her safety is mynumber one priority.” His eyes meet mine over her shoulder.

I scoff and walk to Cillian’s car because the sincerity in his eyes makes it really hard to believe what he says is a lie. As much as I don’t want to believe him, though, his actions show otherwise. If I really think about it, he’s done nothing to hurt me. He’s actually gone out of his way to do the opposite, even if he is an overbearing jerk about it.

Mom does her best to ease the tension in the car with small talk on the drive from the airport to the island. It doesn’t do what she intends though, as both Cillian and Declan sit in steely silence. When Mom asks if we’re hungry, I tell her yes, and Declan says he can always go for food, so we stop at a little beachside restaurant.

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