Page 31 of Broken

In the tiny fridge he found roast beef sandwiches, wrapped in waxed paper. Meat was good. She might not know it, but her wolf needed meat. He put one of those in his pocket, and then added another one because he’d just realized how hungry he was himself.

The oldest Sanchez cousin—who never used his first name—growled at Cole as he walked past. “Hope you left something for us.”

“You don’t need anything,” he answered absently. “You should cut down. You’re getting fat.”

It wasn’t true, but Sanchez got distracted by looking down at his stomach in outrage, and then insulting everyone who was laughing at him for falling for it, so it took his attention off Cole and Ireland.

When Cole got to the couch, Ireland still had the blanket around her, and she’d pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, as if she were trying to protect herself.

That gave him an odd little stab somewhere in this stomach. She shouldn’t feel like she still needed protection. Only maybe she did, because who the fuck knew what Thanatos really wanted with her?

Only thing was, she was still safer at the Ridge than anywhere else. She needed to understand that. Maybe she’d feel better when she was fed?

“Here,” he said abruptly, holding the cup out to her. “It’s tea. It’s hot. It’ll make you feel better.”

She raised her eyes to him. “I don’t think tea is going to solve my problems.”

“Well, no.” He sat down. “It wasn’t supposed to. But you need to drink. You lost a lot of blood.” He held it out again, and she took it, sniffing at it.

“If you don’t like it you can have juice.” He fished the bottles awkwardly out of his pockets and put them in the nearest cup holders. Fuck. Now she couldn’t put her tea down. He moved the bottles. “But tea is maybe better,” he told her. “It’s chamomile. So it’s calming.”

“I’m very calm,” she said. Which was a lie. She was upset—he could feel it.

“Not on the inside,” he said. She didn’t answer—just gave him a swift look he couldn’t read, and looked back down at her tea. The pilot made an announcement for everyone to buckle up for takeoff. Half the guys in the front didn’t, but they weren’t Cole’s business. Ireland was. Cole pulled the two ends of her seat belt around her and snapped them together, and then put his own on.

“Here,” he said, fishing a sandwich out of his pocket and thrusting it at her. “I brought you food.”

“Thanks. Also not calming, though.”

“Are you mad because I’m taking you back to Ridge?”

“I thought—” She picked at the sandwich wrapper. The plane started taxiing along the runway. He waited for her to finish.

Finally she said, without looking up, “I thought maybe you would go with me. To find a sorcerer who would get me out of the bracelet. Get you out of it, too. But you didn’t even give me a chance to ask. Or say anything.”

He said, “We just almost got killed by the Retrievers. Both of us. In less than a day. They found us in the safe house, which was warded. Thank the gods they couldn’t get in, but they still tracked you there. I thought it was obvious that going around randomly hunting for super-powerful sorcerers who would help you for no good reason was going to end in certain death. I figured it was time for Plan B.”

“You figured. So now you’re just like the Bright Fae. Slap a bracelet on you, and you get to make all the decisions.” She looked away, out the window. The plane accelerated, and suddenly the ground was dropping away beneath them.

Like her life, he realized. Like her dreams of being free from the bracelet. Riker had listened to her. Riker had made a deal with her.

Maybe he’d intended to honor it, maybe—probably—he hadn’t. Because, Riker. But he’d made Ireland feel like she mattered.

Cole had to do better than Riker.

They’d had a connection last night, when they were talking. She’d said she liked him. Maybe he could get that back? He said, “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that you were onboard with avoiding certain death. I promise not to make that mistake again.”

Her head turned, looking to see if he was serious. He let a small smile touch his face.

She shook her head. “You,” she said, “suck at comforting people. You know that, right?” But her face was softer, and her emotions felt… less sad. Less empty. A tiny bit less alone.

“Yes,” he said. “I do. I suck at small talk, too. Just so you know. And since I’m almost thirty, I’m probably never going to learn. Boomer’s pretty good at it, though.” He paused. “Well, no, really he’s not. He just says a lot of totally ridiculous stuff and makes people laugh.”

“I’m hilarious,” Boomer called from his seat halfway down the plane, proving he didn’t know how to mind his own business. “Ask anyone. And I’m charming as fuck.”

There were disbelieving hoots from the front of the plane.

“You’re delusional,” Sanchez said. “People want to kill you all the time. I’d do it now, but Thanatos would be pissed that he had to replace the carpet on account of the blood.”