Page 37 of Where Broken Wings Fly

As Arianna barrels through the clearing in front of Lola’s cabin, I watch the blur of ethereal blonde hair running fast on little legs. We haven’t seen Willow for the past few days as the pair settled in and rested after their traumatic journey.

“And a butterfly!” the enthused voice bellows. “This country is awesome.”

Arianna isn’t looking where she’s going. She traipses through the long grass, inspecting every flower and insect. Lola told us that she was the same when she took her to the vegetable patch the other morning.

Lunging forward to intercept her, I easily pluck Arianna off her feet while she’s distracted. Tossing her over my shoulder, she shrieks loudly and laughs so hard, I’m worried she might actually pee on me.

“Gotcha, peanut.”

“Killian!”

“You’re very loud for this early in the morning.”

She stares up at me with big, blue eyes that sucker punch me right in the damn chest. I don’t usually like children—too loud and demanding—but there’s something about this tiny speck of sass and fire that I find endearing.

“I missed you, giant.”

I blink, taken aback. “Me?”

A smile blooms across her pink lips. “Where have you been?”

“Hiding, obviously.”

“You’re too big and fat to hide from me!”

Zach laughs his stupid ass off, and not even my glare shuts him up. Arianna joins in, and the cackling pair attract the attention of Josie and Stewart, two of our younger residents who are working on their allotment across the road.

“Zach,” I grumble.

He fights to take a breath. “The look on your face. Priceless.”

“I am not fat.”

Arianna reaches out and pinches my waist, her fingers clamping down on a roll of skin. “Then why are you so big?”

“Someone has to do all the work around here, peanut.”

Footsteps approach, slowly catching up to us. Willow appears in the clearing, still limping but looking a lot steadier on her feet than the last time we crossed paths. I still feel like a dick for how I treated her.

It wasn’t anything personal. I’m not good with people, let alone strangers. Her secrets are practically written across her face, and it killed me to know that I couldn’t wrangle them out of her, even by force.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes to apologise.

Zach shoots her a wave. “Hey, Willow.”

“Morning, guys. Arianna, leave them alone.”

Her voice is a melodic tinkle that licks against my hardened skin. She’s a technicolour painting of purple and black bruises, but the swelling on her face has settled down enough to reveal her slightly crooked nose, naturally plump lips and effortless smile.

Fuck me.

She’s gorgeous.

No, no. Don’t go there.

My hands curl into fists at the stark bruising that still stains her slightly tanned skin. I want nothing more than to beat the shit out of whoever put the fear in her eyes. She takes one look at my face and shudders.

“Come on, Ari. Let’s go and get some breakfast.”

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