Page 101 of Why Broken Wings Fray

“That life,” I breathed, hating myself for tempting my dreams. “That life where you aren’t Raegan at all. Where I’m not Olivia.”

Sadness dared to further hog his features, so I trailed a hand along the sharp point of his cheek and shook my head. “Your name, it would be…” I looked foolish as my grin split larger. “Derek, I think.”

“Derek?” His brow flicked upwards. “I don’t think I like that name.”

I muffled a laugh into his broad chest. “It suits you. I haven’t met a Derek that wasn’t arrogant as all hell.”

And now that sadness slipped away, leaving only a humoured grin and that sly look in his eyes. “Is that right? Well, what would your name be, Olivia?”

My name on his tongue would never fail to awaken something primal and needy within me. “Mary.”

“You’ve thought about this,” he said, a near whisper that almost sounded like a plea.

“Perhaps.” I grinned.

“I assume Derek is not a King,” Raegan continued, falling heavier into the image we painted for ourselves.

“Surely not,” I added.

“What human job would I have?” he purred, pushing some of my hair out of my face to tuck behind my ear. I groaned, leaning against the heat of his palm.

“Hmm…” I truly needed to contemplate this. “I think you would be a high-end investment banker. They’re all smug as shit, charming but in that sort of rude way that you can’t tell if you love or hate?”

“You speak so highly of me,” he hummed, his eyes lost completely as he stared up at me. “And what of Mary? Would she be skilled in the art of healing, too?”

“No,” I said too quickly. “Actually, yes… It is my life, regardless of what persona I take to, I suppose. But yes, I would still be a veterinary surgeon.”

“I have no idea what any of those words mean,” he admitted, smiling even larger. And hell, what I wouldn’t do to keep that carefree, gorgeous smile on his cold face.

“That’s how Mary and Derek would meet, I think. Derek, because most people don’t understand him and he’s quite rude to most, decided he needed a cat. And said cat decided to swallow a copious amount of plastic, as they do. So Derek rushed his cat to the nearest emergency, and Mary saved his beloved creature.”

“That sounds familiar,” he said, his eyes bright.

“And the surgery was quick but the recovery was long. Mary begged Derek to go home, to rest, but he refused to leave his little feline for the night, so he slept in the waiting area. And Mary waited with him.”

Smiling, Raegan’s head fell backwards and revealed the sharp angle of his jaw that I wanted to drag my tongue along. A deep, approving groan came from him as I imagined he lapsed this little life behind his eyes, even though I knew he had no idea what an investment banker, veterinary surgeon, or waiting room was.

Whatever he was picturing, though, I wanted it. I wanted it so badly, because all at once Raegan was someone else entirely. And that version of him, rosy-cheeked and lost in the bliss of this simple tale we weaved, was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The damning thing was that I could see it, too. I could see early mornings on the weekdays, hurrying ourselves across a kitchen and feeling his heat drag along me as we darted eagerly between stovetop and coffee machine. Then I could see the late evenings, both of us returning home at separate times only to wind up in one another’s arms across a couch that had seen every ugly side of us. And then I could see the weekends, buried into his side or sprawled out across his chest in any variety of setting.

This little life so quickly took the air from my lungs. And I knew my heart was beating rapidly, disgustingly fast, but Raegan paid it little attention. Because I was sure his was, too.

I was content to leave it at that, but Raegan was so lost in it. So, so lost that I had no desire to haul him out of it.

It was as if he was drunk when he lifted his other hand to place behind his head, giving him a new angle to drill his gaze into me. His words were smooth, if not a bit slurred, as he said, “I want that life with you, Olivia.”

It was a punch to my chest that broke through the wall I had erected around this delusion of mine. It brought a tear to my eye that I did not stop from falling. Raegan watched it, this tiny ball of liquid, as it slipped down my cheek. And I loved that he let it, that he didn’t stop it, not until it was at the peak of my chin. Then his lips, warm and hot, pressed against that small tear and he took it.

“Me too,” I whispered my admission. “But I want it here.”

His face tensed, his brows twitching, as he looked across mine several times. I was convinced he was going to shut down, like he usually did, or come back to sternly tell me to stop being a fool. But he didn’t, and I was sure that it was worse when he leant forward, his breath hot against the shell of my ear, and murmured, “So do I.”

I had a thousand things to ask, to offer, in that quick second, but his eyes dropped to my lips and his thumb ran along the softness of my lower lip.

“What a Queen you would be.”

Reality crashed over me like a violent wave, but I wanted it to. I wanted to drown in the depths of that realization, as long as he was right there with me. And judging by the ache in his eyes, he was.