Page 61 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Zach shoots me a wink, flicking the stub aside. “Good morning, babe. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Killian nods in greeting, his blonde hair loose and tangled as it hangs over his shoulders today. He seems preoccupied, contemplating the thick coverage of pine trees ahead of us that part to reveal the dirt track out of the valley.

Throwing the truck into gear once I’ve buckled myself in, he takes off in a spray of wet mud and fallen leaves. Zach turns the radio up, chattering in the background. I tune him out, preoccupied by our surroundings.

Seeing the forest in the cold light of day, I realise how insane I was to attempt it on foot, let alone the mountain road that leads down into the valley. We pull onto rocky terrain, lined with heavy boulders marking our route back up into the world.

Once we reach the top of the bumpy path stretching into the heavens, I gasp at the undisturbed view of the surrounding countryside. It’s nothing like Mexico, home of the relentless heat and sand as far as the eye can see.

I prefer the luscious grass, countless spindly trees and the scent of fresh rainfall across the mountains. The cold wind on my skin and the mist in the air are my favourite things about our new life. Each morning feels like being reborn, over and over again.

“Where are we headed?”

“I need to drop Micah’s deliveries off in Highbridge.” Zach rolls down the window to light another cigarette. “If you don’t mind small shops, it’s a good place to start,”

“If you need anything bigger, we’ll have to head into the city,” Killian chips in moodily. “It’s another hour away on top of that.”

“No, I don’t want to be that far from Arianna. Maybe another time.”

“You’d love it there,” Zach advises, puffing on his smoke.

“If she likes stupid people, tons of traffic and jumped-up assholes selling shitty life insurance policies,” Killian mutters darkly. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Ignore his complaining.” Zach smirks at me. “Killian isn’t a city boy. He prefers to live in the dark ages.”

“You can walk back up the mountain, kid.”

“Try it. I’ll tell on you to Lola.”

Killian snorts. “We both know I’m her favourite anyway.”

“That is so not true! You’re full of shit.”

“Ask her yourself. She’ll tell you as much.”

“Maybe I will,” Zach threatens.

Letting my eyes slide shut, I tune out their arguing and enjoy the ride. Even on the bumpy path, Killian’s huge truck absorbs much of the friction. I’ve heard it was a custom job that Ryder helped him with to haul lumber and supplies back up the mountain.

We pull into Highbridge another long hour later. The rural, picturesque countryside town looks exactly as I remember. Stone cottages and tiny shops line the quiet street, with black lacquered lamp posts and swinging baskets filled with fresh flowers.

When me and Arianna first arrived here after hours of travelling north, I was dead on my feet. I can hardly recall walking around the town, fishing for information from locals milling about. It’s miraculous that we made it at all.

Perhaps fate was on our side.

I find that comforting, somehow.

Locating a tight parking space off the main street, Killian groans as he manoeuvres the huge truck into it, complaining the whole time about being back in civilisation. Zach finishes his third cigarette and claps his hands together as the engine cuts out.

“Let me drop off Micah’s crap and we’ll go find some shops.”

Lifting a massive plastic crate bursting with wrapped parcels from the bed of the truck, Zach heads for the nearby post office, situated beneath a bright red overhang and more flower baskets.

Opening my door, I hesitate when Killian walks around the truck and offers me a hand. He’s dressed in his usual flannel shirt and jeans, though these ones are cleaner than his usual pair. I eye his hand with doubt, and he stifles a scoff.

“Lola’s right, Willow. You have to trust us sometime.”

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