Courtney Cole - Until We Fly

Her father barely glances at me. “Well, I guess you’ll have to get someone else to do it. Nora, I’ll meet you back at home.”

You’re welcome for saving your daughter’s life, asshole.

He starts to walk toward his car.

Nora is frozen, but then she glances at me.

I nod. Be strong, Nora. Don’t let him control you.

She looks into my eyes, searching for something, something I can’t name. She must find it, because she squares her shoulders and takes a step.

“Actually, dad, I can’t come home right now. I’ve got an obligation here. I gave my word, and I need to keep it. Isn’t that how you raised me?”

Her voice starts out tremulous, but grows steadier. Maxwell stops in his tracks, then turns slowly.

I can see the displeasure on his face, from the idea that his daughter dared to defy him.

There’s a coldness in his eyes that is familiar to me. I used to see it in my own father.

He takes a step, and I move slightly in front of Nora.

I stare into his face.

If you want her, you’ll come through me, asshole.

Humor fills his eyes.

“Are you going to do something, gimp?” Maxwell asks, his voice quiet and even. I smile at this. I could level this guy out with two gimpy legs and one hand tied behind my back. But I don’t say that. I don’t have to. He knows.

I stand my ground because actions speak louder than words.

Maxwell stares at his daughter, his gaze unyielding.

Finally, he turns.

“We’ll discuss this later, Nora. Your mother is hosting a dinner on Friday. You’ll be there.”

Without even looking at us again, he gets into his car and drives away.

I hear Nora exhale from behind me.

I turn around and stare into her face. She’s still pale, still shaky.

“Are you ok?”

She nods.

“Yeah. Thank you for… thank you.”

I nod. “I don’t like bullies.”

“Me either,” she murmurs. She stretches on her toes to get the house key and unlocks the door.

As we go in, she turns to me. “I think I have to go to my mother’s dinner. Will you go with me?”

Her voice is strained, her eyes empty.

I immediately agree. “Of course.”

“Thank you. I’m going to… take a shower. Are you ok out here for a while?”

“Of course.”

I watch her walk away, her back stiff, her hands fisted at her sides.

She’s in the shower for a long time.

The physical therapist comes and does his thirty minutes of PT with me before Nora finally emerges from the bathroom, steamy and clean.

“How did PT go?” she asks curiously as she steeps some tea in a china cup. I notice that her arms are red. She scrubbed them with force.

I shrug. “It’s ok. I know what to expect. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Nora sits in the chair next to me by the window.

“Was your leg really shattered before?”

“Pretty much. I think I’ve got more metal and screws in it than bone. But it’s okay. I can walk, which is more than a lot of guys.”

Without meaning to, I think of Mad Dog, my old colleague and friend, whose legs were blown off in front of me. He hadn’t survived.

“This dinner,” I change the subject. “What’s it for?”

Nora shrugs. “I don’t know. My father makes my mother host dinner parties for his business associates. It’s hard to say who will be there or what this one is for.”

I eye her carefully. “Will William be there?”

Nora tenses up, her hands gripping her china cup. “Probably.”

I don’t answer, although I’m even more assured now that I need to go with her to the dinner.

After a moment, Nora speaks. “What my dad said… about you being a gimp… don’t listen to him. You’re amazing. Your little pinky is more of a man than my father will ever be.”

I have to smile at this. “It’s okay. I don’t usually let assholes influence the way I see myself.”

She nods. “Good. Because sometimes I worry that you don’t see yourself the way I do.”

I cock my head, studying her in the dying light of the sun. “And how is that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just trying to get your perspective.”

“You’re strong,” she says firmly. “And brave and honorable and good. I’ve never met anyone like you. And I doubt I ever will again.”

Her assessment takes my breath away.

The reverence in her voice takes me aback. She looks at me with adoration and I know I don’t deserve it.

I start to shake my head, but she’s already shaking her own.

“Don’t bother,” she tells me firmly. “ I know what I know.”

Whatever.

I pick up her hand and hold it, my rough thumb stroking hers. “Nora, I doubt I can live up to the fantasy that you have in your head. Of me, I mean. I’m just a guy. I do the best I can, but…”

She stares at me, impaling me with her blue gaze.

“Don’t even try,” she tells me softly. “It won’t work. I see you for what you are, Brand. I only wish you could see it, too.”

She stands and stretches, then takes her cup to the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed early,” she tells me pointedly, staring at me with laser focus. “Do you want to join me?”

She turns and walks to the bedroom and without another word, I follow her.

She undresses with purpose, taking each article of clothing off slowly and carefully, her eyes locked with mine the entire time.

My dick stands to attention as her tits pop out of her bra.

“Come here,” I tell her.

Obediently, she walks straight to me, her creamy skin hot beneath my fingers.

Dipping my head, I rake one of her strawberry nipples in my mouth. She throws her head back and digs her fingers through my hair.

“You do taste like honey,” I tell her.

She smiles.

“Are you still hungry?” she asks wolfishly. I nod.

“Always.”

Nora

After Brand makes love to me for the third time today, he falls asleep in my arms.

I watch him sleep for the longest time, watching the way his face is so peaceful, the way he’s vulnerable in a way that he never is when he’s awake.

I wish I could stay like this forever with him.

Safe.

I swallow at the thought.

If only.

But I remember the look on my father’s face earlier tonight. There will be hell to pay for that simple act of defiance.

I look down at Brand’s sleeping face.

But it was worth it.

I fall asleep wrapped in his warm arms.

When I wake the next morning, I realize that it was the first night in months that I didn’t have a nightmare.

Brand

Each day of the week passes peacefully, each night just as peaceful. Nora sleeps in my bed, curled into my side.

Each morning, she kisses me awake, her hair falling onto my face.

Today, after breakfast, I venture outside while she works from her laptop at the table. I make my way down to the gazebo that sits near the beach.

Dropping onto a bench, I stare at the lake.

More specifically, I stare at the large buoy floating a hundred yards out. The bell dings with the breeze, as the moss covered buoy tilts to and fro on the waves.

A shudder runs through me.

As I stare at it, I don’t even see it anymore. Instead, in my head, I’m a boy again. And I still hear the dinging of that fucking bell.

I glance at the clock. Three a.m.

There’s only one person who would come for me at three a.m.

I swallow hard, the acidic taste of bile rising in my throat. It won’t go down, so I swallow harder, and the footsteps come closer.

My hands twist in the sheets, forming a fist….a fist that I know I won’t use. I’m only twelve and he outweighs me by a hundred pounds.

I grit my teeth, flexing my jaw.

My bedroom door opens.

His shadow fills up my doorway, falling onto the floor. In the blackness, his shadow resembles the monster he is.

“Get out here,” he growls.

I force myself to succumb to numbness as I climb from bed. It’s the only way I survive it… this… my life.

He grabs my arm, dragging me down the hall. Every other door remains closed, tight and dark. Like always, no one will come to my rescue.

I’m alone.

I’m used to it.

One foot after the other, I make the long walk. When the cold air hits my face, I don’t even flinch. My bare feet burn from the snow. I still don’t react.

All I do… all I can ever do… is brace myself for the pain.

It comes quickly.

My father backhands me hard, hard enough that I go flying into the frozen sand and I taste blood.

“Get up,” my father snarls, alcohol on his breath. He’s been at the bar, again. It’s always when he comes home trashed that he drags me out here.

I stagger to my feet, and the world whirls around me. I see two of my father, before I blink and they blend back into one.

“Swim out and ring the bell,” he demands.

I shake my head. “The lake is almost frozen,” I tell him. “I can’t.”

My father’s face contorts. “You’re such a little chicken shit,” he growls, backhanding the side of my head. I cup my ear with my hand and feel the blood as it trickles down my neck. It’s warm.