Page 109 of Rupture

The glider tilted. Rose screamed—but there was joy in it, too.

She was loving this.

The knowledge sent a rush of pleasure through him.

He’d spent so many hours alone in the sky, free but separate. Now, with Rose beside him, the experience transformed into something richer. He wasn’t alone anymore, and it didn’t feel like a loss of freedom—he had gained something infinitely more precious.

The tow plane was long gone, its noise replaced by the raw rush of wind, nature’s energy propelling them forward. For this brief interlude, they weren’t just flying—they were part of the sky.

“You really belong here.” Wonder threaded through her voice.

I do. And now so do you.

He carved left, then right, weaving through narrow thermals, the glider responding to his touch like an extension of himself. Behind him, Rose’s delighted laughter rang out with every turn, as if they were dancing between earth and sky.

Her joy was infectious. After years of using the sky as an escape, he was finally using it to embrace life instead of flee from it.

They soared for nearly an hour,chasing thermals and riding the invisible highways of the sky. The sun shifted position, casting longer shadows across the landscape below. Finn could have stayed up there forever, suspended between earth and heaven with Rose, but the gradual descent of the sun reminded him of the world waiting below.

All too soon, he guided them into a final loop, lining upwith the short runway. With careful precision, he brought the glider down, rolling to a smooth stop, one wing tipping gently to the ground as they came to rest.

He unlatched the canopy and turned to face Rose. Exhilaration flushed her cheeks. Her eyes shimmered with unfiltered joy.

“You okay?” He reached for her, his fingers skimming her face.

“Fantastic.” She let him unclip her harness and help her out. She stood on wobbly legs, breathless from the flight, her hair messy from the wind, eyes shining. He’d never seen anyone so vibrant, so alive.

Something clicked into place and he knew, right then, with absolute certainty—he was going to spend the rest of his life making her happy, taking care of her.

After all these years of searching the skies for answers, he had found his peace.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, studying him.

“That I was flying long before I met you.” He pulled her close. “But I never truly soared until now.”

She traced the line of his jaw, as if he were the miracle instead of her. “Show me again.”

And there, with the solid earth beneath their feet and the endless blue above, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

60

Rose woke with a sharp inhale,her body rigid.

Darkness pressed against her senses, thick and absolute. For a disorienting moment, she was back in the Io, trapped beneath the lake’s crushing weight, sealed in steel and silence.

Her pulse pounded against her skin as she blinked.

The distant rumble of early morning traffic. The clatter of her aging bedroom radiator fighting January’s bitter chill. The clink of china drifting up from her kitchen.

Home.

She took a deep breath, reached across the rumpled sheets, finding them still warm from where Finn had been sleeping. The lingering impression of his body calmed her racing heart. Just weeks ago, she’d slept alone in this bed, keeping the world at arm’s length. Now Finn had quietly claimed his space in her bed, in her life, as if he’d always belonged there.

Pushing the covers back, she rose, the morning air chilly against her skin. She pulled on her robe and padded barefoot downstairs, following the scent of coffee like a lifeline.

Finn stood shirtless at her kitchen counter, one hand braced on the marble while the other worked the plunger of the French press. The worn denim of his jeans stretched across the curve of his thighs, and the muscles in his forearms flexed as he pressed down. The sight of him so casually domestic in her space sent a rush of warmth through her chest.

He glanced up as she entered, his lips curving lazily, already reaching for her favorite mug. “Coffee?”

---