Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

HARPER

T here isn’t a soccer game this weekend, and practice isn’t mandatory, so Cillian asked us to come spend the weekend at home with him and my mom. Of course, Declan only gave me twenty minutes warning, so I’m just throwing random things in a bag and hoping I don’t forget anything important. Just as I finish zipping up my weekender bag, he comes to my door.

“Ready?” He’s got a leather duffel bag over his shoulder and dark aviator sunglasses pushed on top of his head. I’m glad he’s a menace most of the time because he is so freaking good looking. Even in a graphite polo and black golf shorts he looks like a model instead of a rich prick about to hit the golf course.

“Yes.” I hold my bag up. “Just finished.”

“Good. Make sure you have sunglasses, ideally with polarized lens.”

“O-okay.” Weird, but I set my bag down and walk over to my closet to grab a different pair than I originally had.

He’s picked up my bag and slung it over his shoulder when I come back out of the closet. “Those will do. Come on.” He turns and walks out of the room with me tailing him.

Emerson is studying, and Cyrus isn’t home, so we just walk out to the car. He puts our bags in the back, and I get in the passenger seat. He drives the same way Banks does, using one palm to turn the wheel. Something about the confidence that type of maneuvering exudes is so hot. Which is an irritating thought to have about Declan.

All day my thoughts have been on what Cyrus and I did last night. I don’t know what it means for us. If it means anything at all. He clearly knew what he was doing, so he’s obviously much more experienced than I am. Does he want more? Was it pity? I’m in the dark on everything except knowing what an orgasm feels like.

I definitely want more of those.

Many more.

The sight of the exit sign for the highway we need to take back home flies past us. I spin to Declan. “You missed the exit.”

“We’re not going that way.” He looks over at me with a mischievous smirk that makes me uneasy.

I don’t say anything else though. I’m at his mercy. So I just settle back against the seat and let my mind wander some more.

Knowing that I’ll be home I can’t help but think about Banks. It’s a given that Mom will ask about him. Aside from a few short text exchanges, we haven’t spoken much. I’m going to honor his wishes and not tell anyone aside from Declan and Cyrus, who he knows have been told.

“Have you talked to Cyrus today?” Declan asks out of nowhere.

“No. He came by my room last night, but I haven’t seen him since.”

“He came by your room?” He puts a weird emphasis on came .

“That’s what I said,” I’m snappier than I meant to be. I just hate the cat and mouse games he seems to love to play with me. If he knows what happened, I’d rather he just say so.

Not that it matters because he doesn’t own me. I can do what I want, with whomever I want. My life is finally my own. I finally get to make the rules.

“Okay.” He lifts his hands off the steering wheel. “Damn. Touchy.”

“Where are we going?” I ask as he drives past the only other exit that could lead back home.

Just as I ask that, he slows and turns onto an outer road. We follow it for about half a mile until we come to a small private airport. He pulls up to a gate and rolls down his window, waving a card in front of a reader. The gate creaks as it opens, and he drives through, turning down a row of metal buildings. They’re each enclosed on three sides leaving one completely open for planes to move in and out of.

He puts the car in park and looks over at me. “I’m going to pull the plane out, when I give you the all clear signal, pull the car in behind me to park it where the plane was.”

I nod and walk around the car to the other side while I watch him walk around the plane. He pulls blocks from in front of the tires and spins the propeller. I keep looking around for a pilot to come up to us, but it’s just Declan walking around the plane doing who knows what. He puts a vile to some sort of spout and then holds the liquid up to the light. Finally, he climbs up on the wing and opens the door. To my shock and surprise, he starts the plane himself and begins pulling out of the building.

He turns the aircraft in the opposite direction from me and then motions with his hand out the window, pointing at the empty space left behind. I park in a daze and turn the car off. By the time I join him, he’s already got the bags and is putting them in the back of the plane.

“Where’s the pilot?” I ask as he begins to lead me toward the wing.

“Oh shit.” He looks around like he lost something. “I knew I forgot something.” His gaze meets mine, and he cracks into the most charismatic smile I’ve ever seen on his face. “Just fucking with you. I’m the pilot.”

“Are you old enough to fly on your own?” I watch as he climbs up onto the wing and opens the door. “Like you aren’t even old enough to rent a car on your own. ”

“I was flying before I could drive.” He holds a hand out to me. “I have to get in first.”

I take his hand and put my other hand where he instructs me as I step up onto the wing. I’m equal parts terrified and excited. Which seems to be a common experience with these guys.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll take care of you.”

It’s the sincerest I’ve ever seen him be.

Trusting him to fly me in this tiny plane feels like a big step, especially when we can’t stop bickering on solid ground. But I find myself sitting inside it anyway. He leans over me to close the door, his cedar and citrus scent and warmth momentarily comforting me.

I watch him buckle himself into the harness and attempt to do the same. The belt is twisted, though, and I have trouble figuring out how to fix it. He notices me struggling and covers my hands with his.

“Let me,” he says softly.

I drop my hands and let him untwist the straps. He smooths them over and then lays them over my shoulders. After he buckles me in, he runs his fingers under the straps to double check them. His face is inches from mine, but while he’s focused on securing me, I can’t stop staring at the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips .

Said lips twist upwards as the back of his knuckles brush over my breasts. “Oops.”

I can’t say a word, too afraid of my own voice betraying me. A light brush over my nipples shouldn’t immediately turn me on. Especially when the person who did it is my stepbrother.

“That’s not an apology,” I finally manage to say after he gives me a headset.

“I’m not sorry.”

Before I can retort, he rattles off a string of numbers and letters to air traffic control. I tune it all out as I look out the window while he maneuvers the plane down to the end of the runway. My fingers grip the seat as he revs the engine and we go racing down the strip of pavement and the ground drops away beneath us.

I look out the window as he continues speaking to someone about altitudes and other things beyond my comprehension. The sky is clear, and the sun is bright. I’m glad he told me to wear a good pair of sunglasses.

After a few minutes I turn my attention from the window to him. His hands are loosely on the controls as he relaxes back into the seat. He looks at peace, the usually stern set of his face is gone, and for once he actually looks his age. Like a carefree twenty-something guy without untold weight resting on his shoulders.

He notices me watching him and lifts his hand off of the controls. “Look, no hands.”

I squeal his name which only makes him laugh. “Hands on the wheel.”

“It’s called a yoke.” He puts his hands back on it, his eyes still crinkling with a smile. “It controls the ailerons.”

I stare blankly at his explanation.

“Roll and pitch.” He moves the yoke to the side and the plane turns. “That’s roll.” Then he pulls back and the plane tilts upward. “This is pitch.”

“So turning left and right and going up and down.”

“Essentially.”

He spends the rest of the flight explaining what all the gauges and buttons are and their function. The more he talks, the more questions I have. He never makes me feel dumb for asking the simplest question. At one point he even asks if I want to fly the plane for a minute, to which I promptly answer no. I’ll leave the flying to the expert.

As he gets back on the radio and lists off another bunch of letters and numbers with someone, I find myself not wanting to get back on the ground. It’s been so nice to just be with him while he was so happy. I want more of him like this.

Unfortunately, this side of him disappears as soon as the plane touches back down on solid ground. It’s obvious why when, as soon as he pulls the plane into a hanger, the door to my right is opened and Cillian is standing on the wing.

His face is drawn tight with clear concern as he holds his hand out to help me up. I allow him to help me back down and walk over to where Mom is waiting with a big smile on her face. She wraps me a hug which I gladly return. Every time I see her, she looks healthier.

“I can’t wait to hear everything about your first few weeks of college,” she gushes as she releases me.

“It’s been better than I thought it would be.”

Unfortunately, Declan’s reunion with his father isn’t going as well as mine is with my mom. When they join us carrying the luggage, both their faces are drawn tight. It’s clear that they’ve been arguing, albeit quiet enough not to interrupt us.

Mom walks over to Declan and gives him a hug. “Thanks for getting her to me safe.”

He returns the embrace. “Her safety is my number one priority.” His eyes meet mine over her shoulder.

I scoff and walk to Cillian’s car because the sincerity in his eyes makes it really hard to believe what he says is a lie. As much as I don’t want to believe him, though, his actions show otherwise. If I really think about it, he’s done nothing to hurt me. He’s actually gone out of his way to do the opposite, even if he is an overbearing jerk about it.

Mom does her best to ease the tension in the car with small talk on the drive from the airport to the island. It doesn’t do what she intends though, as both Cillian and Declan sit in steely silence. When Mom asks if we’re hungry, I tell her yes, and Declan says he can always go for food, so we stop at a little beachside restaurant.

We’re given a booth in the corner with great views of the waves breaking along a sandy stretch of beach. I slide in first followed by Declan. He immediately claims two thirds of the bench, his thigh pressed firmly against my own. It feels like some sort of challenge, how uncomfortable can he make me before I give in and retreat.

“How are things at the house?” Cillian asks me. “Are the boys treating you well? ”

“Things are good. It was a little awkward at first, for me. I felt like an interloper.”

“Cy has always made you welcome though, right?” Declan asks.

“Yeah, you’re in good hands with him,” Cillian says with sincerity.

I choke on the sip of water I was taking.

Declan chuckles darkly and pats my leg. “You okay?”

I nod. “A piece of ice surprised me. Cy is actually so great. We go running together in the morning.”

“Good. I’m glad someone is with you.”

“I’m almost never alone these days. It’s actually quite an adjustment.”

Declan shrugs. “Part of having roommates.”

Mom steers the conversation to my classes. She and Cillian are still wondering if I’ve thought any more about a possible major. I have actually, but I’m worried it’s far out of my grasp. I know I want to work with animals. Especially horses. I’ve been looking into becoming a veterinarian, but I don’t know if I’m a good enough student to be able to get into Trinity’s program. I don’t want to talk about something only to be embarrassed by not being smart enough to succeed. So, I deflect by asking Declan about his classes.

Declan gives me a cursory glance, but it works, and the conversation flows naturally away from me and that topic. For the rest of the night, he helps guide conversation away from what makes me uncomfortable. It’s so subtle that our parents never notice, but I definitely do. I’ll need to find a way to thank him.