Free Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense) by Abigail Graham

face fills my vision as his hands push into my back and press me against him. Without thinking I embrace him in return, digging my fingers into his side as I rub my useless claw of a hand against his back.
    Fitzgerald half steps into the room. His eyes go wide and he steps back out, and I hear him shuffle down the hall.
    “He’s not going to watch, is he?”
    “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not forgiven.”
    “Then what’s this?”
    “I don’t know, just don’t stop doing it.”
    I bury my face against his chest and breathe in. I can’t choose a word to describe his scent. It’s just an aura of Jack-ness that flows into my lungs and warms me from the inside when I’m close to him. I press my eye shut and lean on him a little.
    Oh my, what’s that?
    “ Jack !”
    “What? I’m not a robot.”
    I push out of his arms and step back to the counter, breathing hard. I’m still shaking. I snatch my glove from the edge of the sink and tug it back into place.
    He moves closer. “Hey. I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not ready for.”
    “Does that mean if I’m ready you’ll make me do it?”
    “Wait, what?”
    “Nothing, never mind. I need a drink.”
    I pour myself a glass of orange juice from the fridge and sip it, trying to wet my dry throat. I feel a twitch and realize that Jack has stepped up behind me and started playing with my hair.
    I shake loose from him and scowl. “Stop that.”
    “I missed it,” he says, twirling a lock of hair around his finger. “Remember how I used to do it in class? That one time you smacked my hand. You were so embarrassed when the teacher…”
    “I remember,” I say softly.
    Truth was, I’d forgotten. Or, maybe, I just put it away, shoved it out of my head. I can feel the weight of it now, all the memory. It’s been so long. It’s like standing with my back to a bookcase full of dusty tomes, screaming at me to pull them down and read them.
    “I think about that stuff all the time. I guess I’m a little obsessed. Do you?”
    I turn around and face him. The glass taps lightly on the counter as I set it down.
    “I try not to.”
    He flinches, hurt.
    “Why—”
    “Because I wasn’t always like this. Thinking about it hurts as much as the scars. I just want to let it go.”
    “I don’t think that’s true.”
    “Who asked you?” I snap.
    “The person I remember is still in there.”
    He puts his palm on the scarred side of my face.
    “This is not you.”
    “Yes it is. It’s not going away. I’m not going to sing a song and turn pretty again because you say you love me.”
    “You’re not hearing me,” he snaps, biting the words. “I don’t care about the scars.”
    “I do.”
    I tug away from him and step out of his grasp.
    “Sometimes, I’d wish I’d never met you.”
    I blink and round on him. Anger and fear churn like hot water and cold, the steam from it bubbling up my throat to wet my eye.
    “You’d be better off without me. We’d never have been in that car. There’d never have been an accident. Your dad would be here, your face would be fine, and you’d have somebody else, somebody better than me.”
    “How dare you,” I choke out. “How dare you .”
    “Ellie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
    There’s a knock at the front door.
    A moment later Fitzgerald pops his head into the kitchen. He spots the tears burning on my cheeks and gives Jack a hard look, but then sighs.
    “Your cousin Laetitia is here, Miss Ellie.”
    “Goddamn it,” Jack snaps. “Ellie, do you trust her?”
    I tamp down my fury. “No. I hate her.”
    “Will she tell your mom I’m here? Or my father?”
    “If she thinks she can get something out of it.”
    Jack looks around. There’s another knock at the door.
    “Should I let her in?”
    “Wait thirty seconds and then let her in, yeah. Tell her Ellie’s in her room and doesn’t want to be bothered today.”
    “Wait. I’m not in my room—”
    “No, you’re not. You’re