Page 89 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“I’m… shit. I’m sorry, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. What happened? Is it what I said?”

Willow tries to move and cover her breasts, but I grab her wrists before she can, causing her eyes to flare with anxiety. She battles against my grip, and I quickly release her again.

“I just haven’t done this before.”

“Done what?”

“You know… sex,” she mutters.

“I don’t understand. You have a kid.”

“Look, forget it. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“No, Willow. Tell me what you meant by that. You’re married, for Christ’s sake.”

“So, what? You think every marriage is happy?”

“You’re twenty-six years old. How is this all new? You must’ve been with men other than the scumbag you’re hiding from?”

Her expression shuts down. “Leave it, Kill.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

The look on her face is one I recognise from Micah. I’ve pushed too hard, and now her defences are slamming shut, leaving me trailing behind her with more questions than answers.

She grabs her tank top to cover her chest, already standing up. I’m seized by an unwelcome rush of panic. It invades my cells and causes my brain to misfire. If she walks away now, I won’t get another chance.

“Willow, wait—”

“No, forget it. We’re done here.”

“Don’t run away from me,” I plead, unnerved by the emotion cracking my own voice. “Not like Micah does. Let me fix this.”

Willow hesitates, sparing me a tear-filled glance, like she’s assessing whether I’m worthy of another second of her time. I’m still on my knees but peering up at her instead.

“You’re safe with me. I would never hurt you or Arianna. Fuck, Willow. All I want is to make you both happy. Whatever this is… you can tell me, and it won’t change anything.”

“Yes, it will,” she deadpans. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

“I know you well enough,” I almost shout in her face. “I’ve spent every day watching you since I pulled you from that ravine. You’re the first person I think of in the morning, and the last thing on my mind every night.”

Her face pales, but she doesn’t speak.

“Your eyes light up when you watch a fading sunset because it reminds you of your home in Mexico. I heard you say that you loved the sunsets there more than anything.”

“I did,” she chokes out.

“But your favourite time of day is dusk when the darkness falls, and fireflies light up the woods. You drink your coffee black, and tea with milk, but God help anyone who dares to put sugar in it.”

“Kill—”

“You think no one notices that you barely eat and wake up half the town screaming with nightmares.” I cut her off. “Your daughter is a fucking spitfire, just like her mama.”

More tears spill down her cheeks.

“You’re strong enough to drag yourself up that mountain and nearly die in the process to give your daughter the chance of a better life. I’m in awe of you.”

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