39. Conrad

Ishuffle the last of the students aboard, ticking names off the mental checklist in my head. I move down the narrow aisle, the hum of the aircraft filling my ears, the scent of fuel and leather seats mingling in the air. My heart hammers with a cocktail of excitement and anxiety as I drop into the seat next to Grayson.

"Everyone's in," I mutter, buckling my seat belt. My eyes dart over the heads of the passengers, making sure each one is settled, their excited chatter a backdrop to my silent count.

"Good job." Grayson nods, his voice steady over the noise. He's calm, collected. Always has been.

I lean back, trying to match his ease, but then I see her. Brielle. She's seated across the aisle, three rows ahead, laughing with some guy I don't recognize. Her head tilts back, and her laughter dances through the cabin, light and free.

A frown creases my forehead. It's an involuntary reaction, like a reflex, to the sight of her so at ease with someone else. It's not jealousy. It can't be. But there's this tightness in my chest that I can't shake off.

Grayson's elbow nudges mine, a silent gesture that pulls me from my brooding. His eyes narrow slightly, the corners crinkling with concern.

"Something up?" he asks, voice low enough to be drowned out by the hum of the engine.

I flick a glance back toward Brielle. Her head is bent close to the man's, her hand brushing against his arm in a familiar way. My grip tightens on the armrest.

"Her," I say, tilting my chin in Brielle's direction, "with him."

Grayson follows my gaze, then turns back with a shrug. His hand pats my shoulder, a fleeting touch meant to comfort, or maybe to chide.

"Jealousy's a bad look on you." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. He glances around the cabin, then leans closer. "Remember, we agreed. No one knows about us. It's safer this way."

I know he's right. The secrecy is for protection, for all our sakes. But logic does little to soothe the heat simmering beneath my skin.

"Keeping up appearances," I echo, voice flat. It doesn't make the sight any easier to swallow.

"Exactly," Grayson says, and there's an edge of command in his voice now. "She's playing her part. We play ours."

I nod, forcing my gaze away from Brielle. There's nothing to do but trust—in her, in this complicated thing we have. And in Grayson, who always seems to see the bigger picture when my view narrows to a single point.

"Right," I murmur, settling back into my seat, trying to ignore the twist in my gut as the plane taxis down the runway.

When the wheels touch down, a shudder running through the cabin, my heart races, though not from the landing. I unbuckle, stand, and scan over heads and baggage. No Brielle.

"Looking for someone?"

It's Grayson, voice casual as if he doesn't already know. I nod, trying to keep my tone even.

"Can't spot Brielle."

He hoists his bag from the overhead bin, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. "She left her seat early. Went straight for the exit."

My pulse kicks up a notch. "Why?"

"Family emergency." He drops his voice. "Her dad needs her."

"Damn." The word slips out, tinged with concern…and something else. Possessiveness. I hate it, but it clings to me, unshakable.

"Take it easy, man." Grayson claps my back. "She'll be okay."

"Yeah." I force a breath out. "Yeah, she's strong."

"Where to now?" he asks as we shuffle toward the aircraft door.

"Going to see Nina." The name steadies me, a reminder of what matters beyond this tangled web we're caught in.

"Good." Grayson nods. "She'll like that."

We part ways in the terminal, him to his sleek car, me to the rental counter. The keys feel cold, foreign in my hand, nothing like the warm reassurance of Brielle's touch.

I slide into the driver's seat, start the engine. It hums to life, a dull roar that can't drown out the silent chant in my head—Be safe, Brielle.

As I pull away from the curb, the possessiveness settles into worry, a stone in my chest. But for now, there's Nina. She needs me too.

I rap against the door, a steady thrum of knuckles on wood. It swings open, and there's Nina, less of the night's shadows beneath her eyes, face not as marred by bruises and swelling. She leans heavily on crutches, but the ghost of her usual fire flickers in her smile.

"Conrad," she greets, her voice a mix of surprise and relief.

"Hey, sis." I take in her steadier stance, the healing that's begun to erase the worst of it. She moves aside, making room for me to enter.

"Be careful with the steps," warns a stern voice behind her. A nurse, hired hands meant to mend what's been broken, hovers like a protective shadow. The woman's gaze is all clinical concern, her posture rigid with responsibility.

Nina rolls her eyes, a flash of her old rebellious spirit. "She won't let me do anything," she grumbles, gesturing to the hovering nurse with a tilt of her head. "Not even make my own tea."

"Maybe that's for the best," I say, keeping my tone light, teasing. "You do tend to burn water."

"Ha-ha." Nina's retort is dry, but her lips twitch. "Very funny."

The nurse offers me a nod, a silent plea to keep an eye on my sister. I return it with a subtle thumbs-up, understanding the unspoken language of caretakers.

"Let me hang on to those crutches for a sec," I suggest, reaching out. "You need a break."

"Finally, an ally." Nina sighs theatrically as she relinquishes the crutches and collapses onto the couch with an exaggerated oof.

I place the crutches safely out of the way and settle into an armchair across from her. We share a look, one that says we're both navigating this new normal, finding our footing in the aftermath of chaos.

The plush leather cushion sinks beneath me, contrasting with the tension that's been building up in my shoulders. Nina's place smells like disinfectant and something floral—probably one of those air fresheners she loves.

"Been doing okay?" I ask, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped together.

"Better." She shifts, a grimace fleeting across her features. "Cooped up, but healing."

"Good to hear," I murmur, watching how the light filters through her curtains, casting shadows that dance across the floor.

"Conrad," she says suddenly, her tone teasing, "you've got that look."

I blink, confused. "What look?"

"The one you get when you're into someone." A knowing smile plays on her lips. "Let me guess…Brielle?"

A chuckle escapes me before I can stop it. It's a sound that feels out of place in the quiet room, yet it eases some of the tightness around my chest. "Are you moonlighting as a mind reader now?"

"Only for you, big brother." Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and it's like I'm glimpsing the old Nina again, the one who thrives on intuition and insight.

"Seems you're getting better at it," I say, shaking my head but unable to wipe the grin off my face.

A sigh escapes me; it's a confession waiting to spill. "Yeah, Brielle and I…we're seeing each other. Grayson too, and Levi might be in the mix."

Nina's eyebrows shoot up, her curiosity piqued. "All three of you? Is she happy with that?"

"Seems so," I say and shrug, though my chest swells with the truth I hold. "She smiles a lot. Laughs. Her eyes light up when?—"

"Okay, I get it," Nina cuts in, but there's warmth in her voice, not judgment.

I lean back, the leather of the chair creaking under my weight. "It's unconventional, sure. But it works for us. For now."

She nods, her gaze softening. "And you're okay with sharing her?"

"More than okay." I meet her eyes, steady and sure. "It's about what makes her happy. And if that's us…all of us together, then I'm in."

"Sounds complicated."

"Maybe." I pause, considering. "But I'm not ruling out anything. Marriage, kids, whatever the future holds."

"Really?" Nina's smile is gentle, encouraging.

"Really." My voice is firm. The prospect doesn't scare me; it feels like a promise taking shape.

Nina's gaze wanders to the window, her reflection a shadow against the night sky. She turns back to me, her eyes holding an earnest plea.

"Conrad, I want to see more of Brielle," she says, her voice soft but determined. "Can you bring her around? I'd really like to spend time with her."

The request catches me off guard. Soft lamplight casts a glow on Nina's face, highlighting the resolve there. It's not the first time she's shown interest in my love life, but this feels different—more personal.

"Sure, Nina," I reply, and the corners of my mouth lift slightly. "I'll talk to her about it."

"Thanks." Her smile is grateful, tinged with hope. "I just…I think we'd get along, you know?"

I nod, understanding her need for connection. "I think so too."

"Great." She settles back into the cushions, looking content. "It'll be fun, won't it?"

"Definitely." I stand up, ready to leave, feeling good about the bond forming between two important women in my life. "I'll let her know."

"Tell her I'm not always this banged up," Nina jokes, glancing down at her crutches.

"Will do." My laugh is genuine, and I head for the door, already imagining the future gatherings.