Page 59 of My Fallen Saint

Gregg’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest, and I can’t help but think that he’s received that order before. And while I know Devlin has no intention of touching me, I don’t imagine that’s the case with other women he invites onboard.

The thought doesn’t sit well.

“Of course, Mr. Saint,” Gregg says, then disappears, leaving us alone.

I draw a breath, then lean forward to help myself to some brie. “This is a nice spread for a short flight.”

“Dinner isn’t until eight, and I wasn’t sure if you’d had lunch.”

“I didn’t,” I say. “Brandy made muffins. I overindulged on the breakfast side of things.”

A quick grin flicks over his lips.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just remembering. Not muffins, though. You two spent a Saturday once experimenting.”

“Almond butter and chocolate chip cookies,” I say. “I’d forgotten.”

“They were horrible.”

We both laugh as I nod. “But that’s why she made regular chocolate chip later that day. She’s improved a lot.”

“Then I’m sorry I didn’t get a muffin.”

I hear real warmth in his voice, and I tilt my head. “Are you?”

He meets my eyes, but I see none of the gentleness I’d just heard. Instead, his gaze is flat. A complete blank slate. “Let me be clear,” he says. “I have no regrets about our past. None. That time in my life was dear to me. But it’s gone. Things have changed. And we’re different people now.”

“No regrets,” I repeat. “Not even about how you left?”

He hesitates for the briefest of moments. “No, Ellie. Not even about how I left.”

I look away, angry at myself for having let down my guard even a millimeter. Fucking cookies, indeed. Then I draw in a breath and turn back to him. “I get it. I do. But I need you to do something for me.”

“Go ahead.”

“You don’t regret the past? Fine. How nice for you. But I do. I regret the hell out of it. Every bit. Every death. Every abandonment. My childhood was a living hell, and the only part of it that I’d believed was good walked out on me in the vilest and most horrible way. You took something from me that you didn’t deserve, Alex. And not just my heart. You may not be as vile as the bastard who raped Brandy, but at least he never made her believe it was real.”

“Raped—what?”

I barrel on, cringing as I remember that of course he doesn’t know, as I didn’t know until college.

“Here’s what I need you to do. Remember the past all you want, but don’t you dare talk about it to me. You’ve made it pretty damn clear you want me back in New York sooner rather than later. So unless you’re planning to finish what you started in the parking lot, I don’t see the point of a warm and fuzzy trip down memory lane.”

We’ve been slowly taxiing down the runway, and I bite my lower lip as Marci announces that we need to fasten our seatbelts for takeoff. Then I tilt my head back and close my eyes, anticipating the rush of the engine and the thrust of acceleration as the plane picks up speed to leave the earth behind.

I’m not a pilot, but learning to fly is on my bucket list. I want to experience that thrill. That release that comes with knowing that the only thing keeping me alive is my skill and the quality of the machine that’s cradling me.

I don’t exhale until we’re in the air, then open my eyes and swivel my chair to face Devlin again. He’s watching me intently, as if I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

“What?” I say.

He hesitates, then says simply, “Nothing.”

I consider pressing him for a real answer, but I’m not sure I’d like what I’d hear. I know what I do—chase adrenaline, flirt with death—and I know why I do it. But I like to believe that I’m not transparent. That when people see me, they just see a woman who likes a good time.

But Devlin’s peeked under the surface already. He nailed me that first night. Danger, he’d said. And he’d been right.