Page 57 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Wringing his hands together, Micah walks over to her and picks up the small sculpture. He grabs a fountain pen from a pot and scribbles something on the bottom of it before kneeling down next to Arianna.

“Keep her safe for me, will you?”

“Really? For me?” Arianna blusters.

“Butterflies don’t belong locked up inside.”

Before he can flinch away from her touch, she squeals and throws her arms around his neck. Micah full-body shudders, still as the hardened clay that fills his quiet workspace. Arianna squeezes him tight before releasing him.

“Thank you. I will look after her, I promise.”

Watching them both, I can’t help but smile as Micah bravely ruffles her hair. Deciding not to push our luck, I hold out a hand for Arianna to take.

“We should head off. It’s getting late.”

“S-Sure,” Micah stammers.

“Thank you for showing us around.”

“You’re welcome.” He stares down at his shoes. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Come on, Ari.” I take her hand in mine. “Let’s leave Picasso here to his work, hmm? I’m sure Micah’s got lots of stuff to do tonight.”

She gives him a little wave before pulling her hand free from mine and running off, shouting for Killian to come and look at her new toy. I watch her go for a moment, smiling to myself. Her confidence is so good to see.

Micah stops beside me, wearing an unreadable expression. “She’s a cute kid.”

Drawing my coat tighter against the cold air, I sigh. “She’s getting louder with each day we spend here. I think Killian’s charming ways are rubbing off on her.”

Stepping outside to head back to the cabin, I’m halted by my name rolling off Micah’s lips in an almost-audible prayer. He’s staring at me with such unspeakable intensity, it feels like he’s searching for something buried deep beneath my skin.

“Yeah?”

Panicked, he shakes his head. “Nothing.”

The door suddenly slams shut in my face. For several astonished seconds, I stare at the rattled slab of wood, eventually making my feet carry me back up the garden. That went better than it could have gone, I suppose.

Talking to Micah feels a bit like navigating choppy water with nothing but a broken life raft. I get the sense that no matter how hard I battle, there’s no opposing the powerful pull of isolation that keeps him locked in the depths of his own private ocean.

Back inside the cabin, Arianna has retaken her spot on the sofa. She’s smiling to herself and snuggling the butterfly like it’s a teddy bear rather than a solid lump of clay. Her eyes are growing heavy, even as she battles to keep them open.

Zach reappears in the door. “Everything okay?”

“All good. Micah’s studio is amazing.”

“I wouldn’t know. He won’t let me in there.”

Tugging on my elbow, he steers me over to the breakfast bar where Killian awaits with a bottle of liquor and three glasses. The dishes have vanished, and the kitchen is relatively clean, albeit still cluttered. They seem to have called it quits.

“Drink?” Killian rumbles.

I stare at the amber-liquid. “No, thanks.”

Whiskey was Mr Sanchez’s drink of choice. The scent holds nothing but bad memories. It clung to his skin and acid tongue as he lashed out at me, inebriated and furious. His fists hit extra hard when he was drunk.

“We should get going.”

“Arianna is almost asleep.” Zach pats an empty bar stool. “Stay, we won’t bite. Well, Killian might, but I promise I’ll put him down if he does. I know a good vet.”

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