Page 52 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“Hey, squirt.”

She clings to me like a spider monkey, using her weight to force me to crouch down so she can press her lips to my cheek. “I missed you.”

I brush a stubbly kiss against her skin in return. “Missed you too, Ari. Go and attack Killian now. Make sure to smother him in kisses.”

Placing her back on her little feet, I watch as she launches herself at the giant in the kitchen next. He barely hesitates before picking her up. I swear, this alien parasite living inside my cousin’s body is really starting to freak me out.

“Killian!”

“Peanut,” he greets. “What did I tell you about running everywhere?”

“That I should always be ready to throw a punch to go with it?”

“Kill.” I gape at him.

“That’s my girl.” He tucks hair behind her ear, clearly proud of himself. “Go on, make yourself at home. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Standing in the doorway, Willow is silent. I drink her in, from her slightly curling, midnight black hair that contrasts the olive-toned shine of her skin, to the light yellow dress she’s wearing that I recognise from Miranda’s wardrobe.

Her body begs to be touched from the rounded curves of her hips and to the sharp angles that carve her breathtakingly beautiful face. She’s full-chested and fills her clothing in all the right places. Fuck. I’m staring now.

“Willow! Come in.”

Her eyes dart up to mine. “Zach… thanks for the invite.”

Disregarding the palpable tension, I engulf her in a hug, only remembering her injuries when she squeaks in pain.

“Sorry,” I quickly blurt.

“It’s okay. How was your day?”

“Better for seeing you.”

I ignore Killian’s exasperated scoff.

“Oh.” Willow’s cheeks blush pink. “Well, I’m happy to see you guys too.”

Patting my arm, she walks past me and spares Killian an awkward smile of greeting. He nods back, hiding behind the safety of the oven and various bubbling saucepans. Touchy-feely isn’t really his style, though I’m beginning to doubt that too.

“Wow,” Willow exclaims.

She’s looking around our home in awe. Killian and his father built the cabin with the intention of us all living together when we were older, leaving them to retire in peace. Having three boys in the house was loud and messy, but Aunt Lorelei loved it.

She doted on us like we were her own kids, especially after our dad died of cancer. It’s no wonder where Killian got his big heart from, though he has his father’s steely exterior and high standards.

Our cabin is smaller than Lola’s modern monstrosity, but it’s still a monolith of glossy mahogany, exposed steel support beams and huge windows that stretch all the way up to the ceiling, revealing unfettered views of the surrounding forest and mountains.

We added a massive dark leather corner sofa that could fit a whole family, and a flat screen television that takes up an entire wall. Killian loves shooting zombies when he runs out of wooden logs to smash to pieces.

For a while, Micah joined our video game nights. That hasn’t happened for a long time. Willow turns in a circle to take it all in, running her fingertips over granite surfaces and plaid cushions that soften the admittedly masculine furniture.

“Your home is beautiful.”

“We used to live in the empty cabin across the road.” I grab three fresh beers from the fridge. “That was before Killian and his old man built this place for us.”

“How long did that take?”

“Four years or so. It was an ongoing project while we grew up.”

---