Page 75 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“What? How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. He may not know the first thing about women, but no one else has been allowed inside his studio, let alone given something to take home.”

“So what? He likes Arianna.”

“Micah doesn’t let anyone get close to him. He’s a lot like you in that respect. I knew he liked you the moment he showed you his art.”

I hate what he’s insinuating. Truthfully, I want to let people in. I want to belong to someone. My past is the only thing stopping me from giving myself to another person. That’s all anyone wants—to love and be loved.

“You’re doing a Killian,” he prods.

“A Killian?”

“Silence and lots of glaring. It’s his signature move.”

“I am not glaring,” I respond hotly.

His shoulder bumps mine again. Zach’s palm snakes closer, until he takes my hand and tangles our fingers together. I don’t have the heart to pull away from him. His touch feels so good.

“It’s okay that you kissed my brother, babe.”

“How is that okay?” I gape at him.

“Because I love Micah. I want him to be happy.”

“Clearly, he’s not happy. He ran away from me and got himself hurt.”

Zach’s thumb strokes my inner wrist. “The world works differently here. We don’t keep people in little boxes just because it’s convenient. If you want to kiss him, you should.”

“He kissed me.”

“Right, but you kissed him back.”

“Does it matter who started it?” I snap at him. “Jesus, Zach. Nobody should be kissing anyone. It was a mistake.”

“Kissing is allowed. In fact, if you want to kiss me, I would highly encourage it.”

My lower belly explodes with nervous butterflies. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about it with all three of them. They’re gorgeous. But more than that, Killian, Zach and even Micah have made me feel at home in their own ways.

I smack his shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

“Keep thinking so hard and steam will come out of your ears.” He dares to run a finger along my jaw. “Something to think about. I need to get back and check on Micah.”

Grabbing his soaking wet clothes, Zach stretches to his full height, showing off far too many muscles that have heat heading straight down south. There’s a dark, intricate tattoo on his bicep that I hadn’t noticed before.

Before he can leave me to wallow in my guilt again, I launch to my feet and croak his name. Zach freezes, his eyes zipping over his shoulder to find me. The smile tugging at his lips is so hopeful, I think he was secretly praying I’d stop him from leaving.

“You could stay,” I blurt before I overthink it.

He arches a brow. “Here?”

“Everyone else is asleep.”

Satisfied with my confession, he drops the bundle of clothes tucked under his arm. His powerful legs eat up the distance between us, until every inch of his skin is within my reach. I battle the urge to trace my fingers over his defined collarbones.

“Tell me what you really want, Willow.”

“I… don’t know.”

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