Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

He turns and strides from the room and I can still feel where his fingernails cut into my vagina. I rush to the bathroom and run a handful of paper towels under scalding hot water. I can’t take a shower so this is the next best thing. I seclude myself in a bathroom stall, wiping and wiping and wiping, trying to get his finger prints off.

Before I realize it, I’m sobbing, and I’m in a heap on the floor.

I have until midnight tomorrow night with Brand.

I don’t dare defy William.

He’ll ruin everything I have. He’ll bring my entire world down around me in shreds and tatters, but that’s not what I care about.

All that I care about is…. Brand.

I can’t let him hurt Brand.

I glance at my watch.

Time is ticking.

The shoe has dropped.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Brand

I stare at Jacey.

“What did you say?”

She swallows her bite of sandwich. “I said, what are you doing with this girl?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really your business, now is it? When it gets to a point that I think I need to tell you about it, you’ll be the first to know.”

“In other words,” she scowls. “Never.”

I grin.

She takes another bite. “She’s gorgeous, I’ll give you that. But she doesn’t really seem your type. She’s a bit… tightly wound.”

I shake my head and look out at the lake, remembering how Nora has swam with me out to the buoy. “You think?”

Jacey nods. “She’s from a snobby family, too. So not your type.”

I finish up my sandwich and take my plate to the sink. “Jacey, no offense. But you’ve spent years crying on my shoulder over other men. You haven’t once listened to me talking about a woman. You don’t know my type.”

She stops chewing and stares at me. “Never once?”

I shake my head. “Never once. I was always listening to you.”

“God, I was a bitch,” she mutters. “Should I apologize again?”

I roll my eyes. “Nah. It won’t help now. Just know that I know what I’m doing. And if I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. And thank you for letting me use your cottage to recuperate.”

She scowls good-naturedly. “Is that what you’re calling it? Recuperation? In a cottage alone with a beautiful woman?”

I nod. “It’s my story.”

“And you’re sticking to it. Got it.”

We banter back and forth for a while, and Jacey chats about life in the UK and I tell her all about what her brother’s been up to in Connecticut.