Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

“Dude,” he tells me. “She loves you. She’s going to want to come mother you.”

Dude. She didn’t love me enough.

But I don’t say that. I also don’t say that I can’t bear for her to come smother me with attention…. Attention which is only that of someone who considers me ‘like a brother.’ I can’t fucking take it.

“Then let’s not tell her for a week or two,” I suggest. “She’s in Europe, for God’s sake. Let’s not spoil her trip.”

Gabe sighs. “Fine. But you get to be the one to explain why we didn’t call right away.”

“Fine,” I mutter.

“Don’t worry about work,” Gabe tells me. “You know it’s practically taking care of itself right now anyway. Can I set up some sort of home nurse or something? You’re not going to be able to travel home for a while, dude.”

I sigh.

“I know.” The anesthesia has worn off enough that hot fingers of pain are beginning to wrap around my knee and ankle. By tomorrow, it’s going to hurt like hell. “No. I don’t want a home nurse. Thank you, though.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Gabe tells me. “And if you decide you need me, call me. I’ll be on the next plane.”

“Stay home with your wife,” I tell him. “I’ve got this.”

“I know you do.”

Gabe hangs up and I stare at the wall.

Fuck this. I didn’t want to be here in the first place, and now I’m fucking stuck here.

I can’t roll onto my side, I can’t even get up to take a piss.

Growling, I stuff the crinkly hospital pillow over my head to drown out the hospital sounds.

This is real.

I need to get used to it.

Chapter Three

Nora

I stare at the little newspaper on the kitchen island.

Brand’s picture is plastered to the front, along with a big headline.

Local Hero Hasn’t Lost His Touch.

The story goes on to detail how Brand was a Lt. Colonel in the Seventy-Fifth Regiment Army Rangers, served a colorful stint overseas in Afghanistan and earned a Purple Heart. His father died last week and Lt. Col Killien retuned home only to save a bus of cub scouts upon arrival here.

The picture was taken by a by-stander, and it shows Brand carrying a kid off the smoking bus. There’s fire all around him, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he’s tall and strong, and rises out of the wreckage like the hero he is.

He’s here because his father died.

I don’t even realize I have goose-bumps until my mother sits next to me and rubs them off of my arms.

“That was something, wasn’t it?” she murmurs, handing me a glass of fresh orange juice as she glances at the picture of Brand.

“It was something,” I agree. “He saved me, maman. He picked me up and carried me out of that building.”

“Well, almost,” my mother smiles. “But he was certainly amazing and I, for one, am certainly in his debt for coming to your rescue. Isn’t that the boy who used to work at the club? I seem to remember that you were frequently tongue-tied whenever he was around.”