Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

She looks away, and for the first time, she doesn’t smile and gush about my father. Instead, she simply says, “Things aren’t always what they seem, my sweet.”

Her voice, so sad, startles me. “Are you ok?” I ask quickly. She smiles.

“Of course. I will be.” She glances at the clothing again. “So you think the pink over the coral?” She changes the subject and I let her.

Because things aren’t always what they seem and she doesn’t want to talk about it.

That’s ok. She’s got her secrets and her feelings and her sadness, and so do I.

So I certainly understand the need to pretend.

I smile. “The pink. It complements your eyes.”

And that is how we behave, almost always. Forget the issues, focus on the mundane. It’s how we’ve always survived.

Chapter Sixteen

Brand

Five minutes after Nora leaves with her mother, Maxwell approaches me.

“Come have a scotch,” he instructs me. It’s not a request.

I decide to humor him. What he has to say might be interesting.

I limp to the sidebar where he pours me a scotch. I down it in one gulp, thumping the glass onto the bar, and turning back toward my seat.

“Thanks for the drink.”

He grabs my elbow. I pause and stare pointedly at his hand and then at his face.

He lets go.

He’s an asshole, but he’s not stupid.

“Leave my daughter alone,” he says bluntly. “I know you’re having fun playing house, but you’re not what she needs. Just bow out gracefully.”

I turn back, his words stiffening my spine.

“I’m not what she needs?”

Maxwell shakes his head. To my left, I see Nate and William from my periphery. They’re trying to pretend they aren’t listening, but I know they are.

“You don’t have the first clue what she needs,” her father tells me icily. “You can’t possibly. You’re from another world, Killien.”

I almost laugh. “I was exactly what she needed last week when I pulled her from the wreckage of that café. You know, when you were standing outside not doing a thing to help.”

His jaw clenches and I see a vein tick in his forehead.

“She’s twenty-three years old. She doesn’t know what she needs. You’re clouding her vision. If you really cared for her, at all, then you’d leave her alone and let her focus on what’s important.”

Again, I almost laugh.

“She’s twenty-three years old. She’s old enough to know what she needs. Perhaps you’re the one who should leave her alone and let her figure it out.”

I start to walk to my chair again, but his next words stop me cold.

“I own her, Killien. And I’ll never let you be with her. Know that right now.”