Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4)

Nora

I cling to Brand, my arms wrapped around his strong waist as we fly down the highway that hugs the lake, on the back of his grandfather’s Triumph.

The wind whips my hair behind me and carries the scent of the lake, of the water and the sun, of Brand. And there’s no place I’d rather be.

“You ready to stop for lunch?” Brand calls back to me.

“Sure,” I answer in his ear.

He pulls to the side, to the little lookout I’d brought him to so many weeks ago, back when he was still limping, back before he was really mine.

We crawl off the bike, take off our helmets, and he digs out sandwiches from a pouch on the back.

As we eat at the picnic table, I prop my legs on his lap and he stares at me thoughtfully, the corners of his eyes turning up.

“Tell me again what you said to Maxwell yesterday,” he tells me. “When he called you from the jail and asked you to show leniency, to intervene on his behalf with the prosecutor?”

I inhale, exhale, then smile. Because it had felt really damn good.

“I told him that prison is waiting for him. And that I’ve heard prison life is hard for pansy-asses like him, so it’s a good thing he’s a Greene. He can do what it takes.”

Brand smiles, a smile full of pride and humor and sadness.

“You’re badass,” he tells me with pride. “Remind me never, ever to fuck with you.”

“Don’t you forget it,” I answer, putting all thoughts of Maxwell and William Greene out of my head. I’m only focusing on the future now.

“What will you do with your parent’s house? I mean, now that everything is over.”

He shrugs. “I think I’ll just sell the land. I don’t want it.”

I can understand why. In the weeks since he signed over everything to his mother, she hasn’t bothered to contact him.

“What about you?” Brand asks softly, reaching up with a large hand to tuck my windblown hair behind my ear.

“Your mother will get everything at Greene Corp. She said she’s going to divide it between you and Nate… you’ll be rich, Nora. In your own right. Not working for your father, not under anyone’s thumb. You can do anything you want.”

I nod slowly, staring out at the lake. “I know. It’s a crazy feeling. For as long as I remember, I’ve been told what I want: to grow up, be a good Greene and head up the legal team for the company. But now, I can figure out what I want to do. I can use my degree, or use Maxwell’s money to get another degree so that I can do something I actually want to do. Or we can travel the world. The possibilities are endless.”

I turn back to look at him and he stares down at me, his expression thoughtful.

I focus on the cleft in his chin. That lovely, adorable, sexy cleft. I reach up and place my thumb in it, where it fits perfectly.

“We fit,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes and captures my hand in his.

“In more ways than one,” he answers. I blush at that connotation, when I remember how well he’d fit inside of me last night, as we’d rocked together, over and over and over.

We fit.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you looked in the box,” I tell him suddenly, because the guilt comes back again. It’s been two weeks, and I still feel awful that I left him, that I made him feel not good enough, when he’s better than anyone I know.

He shrugs. “It’s ok. I’m ok. Really.”

I reach into the pocket of his jacket, where I know I’ll find the lock. He’s been keeping it there for weeks. I pull it out and stare at it, as I turn it over and over in my hands.

“I’m glad he finally admitted his own guilt,” I say simply. “You deserve that.”

Brand shrugs again, his eyes guarded as he looks out across the water. “I think I can honestly finally say that I don’t care. I am free. I’ll always miss my sister, but her death wasn’t my fault. I know that now.”