Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(41)

“You kinda do. Our parents got married.”

I snort. “Right. How does that even work? My stepmother married your father. That makes you her stepson but what does that make me?”

“You’re her stepdaughter, I’m her stepson, that’s close enough. Sis.”

I scowl at him and jab my fork in the air in his direction. “Do. Not. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again.”

He grins. “You sure? You sounded pretty kinky last night. Where’d you come up with that, anyway? Spank me? Really?”

I try to hide my blush, but it doesn’t work. “I read a lot.”

“You read books about spanking?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Maybe I should read one of them.”

My stomach does a back flip. “Um, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“Why, worried I’ll take some cues from it myself? I have to admit, I liked it when you were begging me to f*ck you.”

I choke a little on my milk and cough. “Jesus, Jack.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with it. If it makes you happy, Ellie, yes, I will whip your ass.”

He darts over and pinches my butt, and I almost flick a forkful of omelet at him. I laugh for a good minute before I can eat it.

“Ellie, what did you dream about last night? You woke up flipping out.”

“I had a nightmare.”

“You said something about always having it.”

I swallow, hard. My stomach starts to churn.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“We were driving, you and me. Then the steering wheel came off. I kept trying to put it back on but it wouldn’t stick on the…what do you call that?”

“Steering column.”

“Right. It wouldn’t go back on and then the car started turning over and over and over, and it…”

My fork drops out of my hand.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“It eats you. The car comes alive and eats you.”

I grab a napkin to scrub at the tears on my cheek.

“It sounds stupid, I know…”

Jack is staring at me.

“Oh my God. I have the same dream, but it’s the other way around.”

We sit in silence for a moment.

“I’m done,” I say softly.

Jack eats my untouched bacon and sausage and even as we leave the room with our clothes bundled under our arms, he has half a bagel with cream cheese in his mouth. Where does he put it all?

After we’re in the car he says, “It’s a thing you pick up in the Army. When you can eat, you eat. Don’t know when you’ll get your next meal.”

“Okay, if you say so. Just try not to eat the seat leather before we get to Oklahoma.”

“O-O-Oklahoma where the wind goes something something I don’t know the words,” Jack sings as he backs away from the motel.

“Directions?”

“Yeah, we just follow the blue line. It’s mostly interstate.”

As Jack shifts in his seat and yawns, I turn to look at him.

He’s beautiful. I swear he is the most handsome man I have ever seen, but there’s more to it than that. He makes me happy. I forgot what it was like.

“What?” he says, glancing over.

“Nothing. I’m just looking at you.”

A smile spreads on his face. As we pull onto the highway he takes my hand in his. My left hand, but I don’t care. I gasp when I realize something.

I forgot to put on my glove.

I slip my hand out of his, fish it out of my pocket, and carefully tug it into place, flex my fingers a little, and grab his hand.

“You don’t need to wear that when you’re with me.”

“I know, but it is more comfortable. I’m just used to it. It’s weird being able to feel pressure but not heat or texture or anything with my fingers.”

“Do you have trouble seeing?”

“I did at first. I fell down a few times, trying to turn so I could see things to my left, and I don’t have any depth perception. I probably shouldn’t try to drive.”

“That’s a shame, this is a sweet car your dad left you.”

“You can drive it for me.”

I sit for a while, watching the scenery. It’s very flat here. The world goes on and on, stretching away so much bigger than I ever imagined. I don’t know why but back home the sky feels smaller, closed in. There’s always something between you and the horizon.

“I think I’ll try playing left handed like you said,” I say absently. “If I can’t grip a pick in my left hand I can try a finger pick.”

“You were pretty good, before. You used to play for me.”

“I know. I remember. I won’t be any good now. I haven’t touched one of my guitars in years.”

“Try it anyway. It’ll be like starting over. Hell, we can sign you up for lessons. I’ll learn to play the triangle.”

I roll my eye and jab my fist into his arm. He rubs it but I know I didn’t hurt him.

“There’s so much stuff out here I thought I’d never see. I’m glad you’re here with me, Jack.”

“Yeah.”