Page 71 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Lola ruffles her neatly braided hair and turns her attention to me. “You too, Willow. I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in days.”

I wince, feeling too queasy to contemplate eating. I’ve felt off all week and have chalked it up to the constant state of anxiety I’ve spent the last decade in. Breaking the habit of a lifetime isn’t quick work.

“I’m fine, Lola. You go ahead and eat.”

“I have a bullshit radar, missus.”

I snort in amusement. “Is that so?”

“How do you think I raised so many boisterous children around here?” She tucks a napkin into Arianna’s shirt collar. “No one tries it on with me and succeeds.”

Too curious for my own good, I can’t help but pry.

“What were the guys like as kids?”

“Killian was a little bugger when he was young,” she reveals conversationally. “Always getting into trouble and causing havoc. He thought he was smarter than all of us.”

“Nothing’s changed then.”

“Definitely not.” Lola scoffs. “The twins were a bit more manageable, but your grandpa was the patient one, not me. He taught them everything they know.”

“How old were they when they came here? The twins?”

Pushing a bowl of soup and a sandwich towards me regardless, she settles back with her own food. “Their father died… gosh, nearly fourteen years ago.”

My heart splinters imagining little Zach and Micah, both ten years old, losing their dad so young. I can’t even contemplate what would happen to Arianna if I wasn’t here to keep her safe. One recent near-death experience was enough to scare me.

“Zach was a terror too, causing trouble from day one. Him and Killian were a deadly combination, pranking the other kids and winding everyone up for their own fun.”

“And Micah?”

Lola stirs her soup, deep in thought. “Micah was the silent one. He had such bad night terrors and panic attacks as a child. Zach was the only one who calmed him down.”

Unable to stop myself, I think of Micah’s hopelessly sad smile. His impromptu kiss has been on my mind ever since it happened. I didn’t see it coming, but a dark, sinful part of me wants to do it all over again, regardless of what my brain thinks.

“What happened?”

“Killian didn’t tell you?” Lola asks in surprise.

“Not the specifics. I’ve spent some time with Micah, though. He’s… erm, different.”

“He was always a good boy, albeit troubled. Their father battled prostate cancer for several years. When he passed on, the police didn’t find his body until three days later.”

“Wait, what?”

Lola checks that Arianna’s absorbed in her meal before lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “Micah was locked in a room with his father’s corpse for all that time.”

I have to hold back a wave of nausea. “Oh my God.”

“Zach shouted and begged from the other side of the locked door, but Micah didn’t respond until the police knocked the bathroom door down to free him.”

“And no one was there to help?”

Lola shakes her head. “They lived far away from here. By the time we found out what had happened, it was too late. Killian’s parents adopted Micah and Zach, but things were never the same again.”

My heart aches at the thought of Micah, a lone, terrified little boy, locked in a room with his father’s body for all of that time. He must have been so scared, unable to move enough to even unlock the door. It’s an unimaginable cruelty.

“When he was older, Micah started going into town, drinking alone,” Lola explains. “Your grandpa staged an intervention when he was eighteen and told him to find another way to cope. That’s when they built the studio. Killian’s idea.”

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