Page 43 of At First Flight
“I remember,” I snap. I’ve spent enough years on the farm helping Dad with the harvest. Hell, it’s the sole reason my first boyfriend dumped me, but also the reason I’m so passionate about my field of work. “I planned on bringing the kids to the farm this upcoming week so they could see everything that goes on and see some of the animals.”
Thankfully, Mom chooses that moment to step over to the table, breaking the awkwardness.
“That sounds lovely, dear. Let me know which day of the week, and I can have something planned for them,” she says warmly. The kids follow her lead and place a stack of napkins and a handful of utensils on the table.
“Maybe Wednesday? Tuesday is my day off, and Ashvi and I were going to drive into town.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll have your father check the schedule.”
Rowan’s fists leave his arm and pound down on the table, startling Evelyn in the process. The three-year-old’s lip begins to quiver, and Mom immediately moves her back toward the kitchen. Oliver follows dutifully. I can sense Dean’s building fury toward the situation without even glancing his way. It rolls off him in waves.
“What the hell is your problem?” I bark, my hair flaring around my shoulders as I turn and give Rowen my full attention.
“I’m sorry. We’re all supposed to believe this man needs help raising those two kids. Live-in help at that? Do you even know who he is, Lila? That man could hire the freakingSupernannyif he wanted to. But instead, he’s here in our little Podunk town, paying you next to nothing to live with him and raise those kids. This entire thing seems fishy, and no one is saying anything.”
“Rowan, that’s not at all what’s happening. And if you’d calm down, I’ll—" I say just as the boisterous sounds of my dad’s laughter fill the cavernous room. Even with Rowan’s erroneous outburst, I can’t help but mask my smile when my father enters the room.
“Ah, you must be the handsome Mr. Harrington my wife keeps talking about,” he says as he approaches Dean and holds out his hand in greeting. The kind I had hoped my boss would have received from my siblings.
Dean pulls his stare away from my insufferable brother and holds out his hand in greeting to my dad. “Please, call me Dean.”
“Everything working out with Lila and the kids?”
“Yes, she’s great with them. I’m truly thankful for the help,” Dean replies, smiling warmly.
Breaking their hold, my dad tugs me forward and wraps his arm around my shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Yeah, she gets that from Claire. Those girls could turn Chucky into an angel.”
“I don’t doubt that, sir.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you’re telling me everyone is okay with this situation?” Rowan interjects. “No one else thinks this is weird?”
Narrowing my eyes at my brother, I nearly jerk away from my dad to give Rowan a piece of my mind. Instead, my dad pipes in. “No, it’s no different from the thousands of other people your mother and her team have helped, or have you neglected to recall that this is just a job? One your sister is good at and is doing to help your mom out. Or have you forgotten that part?”
“No, sir,” Rowan mumbles, cheeks reddening with each passing second.
“What is weird is your reaction to the situation, son.”
“I’m just…looking after my sister, that’s all,” he says as his eyes drop down to the table, then flick over to me.
Just as I’m about to speak, Dean chimes in. “I think you’re underestimating the strength and resilience of your sister. Just from the short time I’ve known her, she’d never do anything she didn’t want to do. And I do think you owe her an apology for the ambush.”
Would I?The thought twists like a blade in my chest. I spent two years in a relationship where I didn’t even recognize the man I was about to marry. Not truly. Not the lies he spun or the secrets his family cloaked in polished smiles and bottomless glasses of champagne. I handed them my trust and my future,all for the sake of a dream I thought I couldn’t reach on my own. And in return, I became a pawn in their carefully constructed game, a research trophy to parade in exchange for obedience. Even the little bit of research I’ve gathered since returning home left me bewildered. Web results with missing URLs. Pictures that led nowhere. All things Prescott’s parents likely had taken down. I traded my freedom for ambition. And I didn’t even see it happening until it was too late.
But then Dean’s voice cuts through the fog in my head. Low, steady, unapologetically certain. His words aren’t wrapped in pity but laced with belief in me.
And God, it disarms me.
His encouragement isn’t flashy. It’s quiet. Anchoring. Like he sees the pieces of me I’m still trying to glue back together and isn’t afraid to hold them while I figure it out.
I feel it in the way he stands just close enough to make me feel protected but never caged. In the way he looks at me like I’m not broken. Like I’m more than just the girl who ran away in a wedding dress and a life that wasn’t mine.
And at that moment, as his words settle into my bones, something inside me breathes again. Not fully. Not loudly. But it’s a start. A reminder that maybe I’m not as lost as I think.
“Sorry, Lila,” Rowan says behind gritted teeth. He’d never been one willing to offer up an apology, even as a young child. So this one is monumental to say the least.
Whirling back into the dining area like a cyclone, Mom carries a large bowl of pasta in one hand and another of sauce, setting them on the table, while the kids each carry in a basket of bread.
“Wonderful, everyone is here,” she says, ignoring the conversation she had to have overheard. “Dinner is ready. Oliver and Evelyn, you can take the seats on either side of me if you’d like.”
