Page 65 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Zach worries as he stands.

Cutting them both a fierce look, I straighten my clothes. “I refuse to live in fear. Now, take me to the women’s clothes shop and keep your hands to yourselves, okay?”

They hang back after me, keeping their distance as I storm past. Secretly, I don’t want them to stay away. Far from it. But that’s exactly why I need them to stop touching me, breaking down my defences with each gentle smile and tight embrace.

I’m terrified of the way they make my heart race, even when Killian’s doing his utmost to piss me off. This fear is far stronger than what I felt when Mr Sanchez prowled towards me, his erection straining against his trousers.

I knew that monster. His evil was familiar and, in many ways, I could handle it for that reason. My mind was prepared for his torture, shoring up its defences and building safe escape routes for me to slip into when the pain became too much.

What I can’t handle is their love. Affection. People caring about me and wanting to get close enough to really hurt me. That’s what these men are doing, day by day. And even if a traitorous part of me wants to, I absolutely cannot fall for them.

I won’t survive it.

And neither will they.

CHAPTER 14

MICAH

THE VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES - NOAH KAHAN

Stuffing bottled water, granola bars and sachets of energy gel into my backpack, I throw a paint-splattered hoodie over my head and take a final glance around my messy studio. It’s in even more chaos than usual after my latest bout of depression hit.

I’ve been waiting on a delivery of art supplies and the disruption to my routine when these episodes hit is proving difficult to handle. Keeping busy with my hands is the only thing that allows me to keep the darkness in my mind at bay.

I’m itching to escape.

I’ll drown if I don’t run.

With my walking boots laced up, I heave my backpack onto my shoulders and head outside. Killian and Zach are working around the town this afternoon, battening down the hatches in preparation for a big storm that’s blowing in tomorrow.

We’ve dealt with extreme weather for a long time. It’s a pitfall of living in the mountains. When the storms come, they hit hard, but usually blow themselves out pretty quickly with minimal damage.

“Hey, Micah.” Albie calls out. “Off hiking?”

“Yeah. I’m heading out now.”

In the garage behind him, Ryder is working on his newest treasure, an old VW beetle covered in peeling green paint. It looks ready for the trash heap. They have a knack for finding crappy cars and restoring them to their former glory for profit.

“Tell your brother that he still owes me for a tank of fuel,” Albie grumbles, sliding back under the car with a spanner in hand. “And those damn cigarettes too.”

“Sorry, Al. I’ll let him know.”

“You better.”

Ryder appears from the garage, wiping his hands off on his overalls. “You gonna go through the overpass? There’s a storm coming in.”

“It’s set to make landfall tomorrow. I’ll be fine.”

He studies me for a moment, seeing far more than I like. Ryder is like a brother to me. The four of us grew up here together, running from grief and loss. I’m the only one that didn’t make it out the other side of that particular storm.

“Run out of supplies again?” Ryder hazards a guess.

“They’re due to come in next week.”

“That long, huh?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

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