Our Broken Love (Angels of war series #4)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PENELOPE

The plane journey is long and uncomfortable, with me having to get out of my seat for what feels like every five minutes to go throw up.

Poor Vivienne picked up the stomach flu from the hospital and after going through Fraser and my dad, it eventually got me two hours before our boarding time.

I wriggle around uncomfortably in the plane seat, looking over at dad who I thought was sleeping next to me. "Did I wake you?"

"No, honey." He shuffles around to see me better. "You look pale. Do you have any water?"

"Yeah," I croak, swallowing a few times when my stomach makes a few loud noises. "I can't keep anything down."

Dad pulls a concerned face. "This is probably the worst place to get a stomach bug, isn't it?"

I nod. "Uh-uh." Yes. Yes, it is.

In fact, it's probably most people's idea of a worst nightmare.

"Do you need more sick bags?" The thought of those paper bags alone is enough to tip me over the edge.

"No thanks."

He sighs, whispering, "Why don't you try get some sleep?"

"Sleep sounds good," I say back, turning so I'm facing him with the air conditioning blowing over my face.

My eyes spring open as soon as he brushes my hair from my face, drifting his fingers across my cheek. It comforts me almost instantly, sending me right back to when I was little. It's simple, the comforts you need when you're sick.

When he notices my eyes full of tears, he pulls me so I'm half on his chest. "It's okay, darling."

I haven't switched my phone on in two days. The guilt eating through me. I sent Max a long text message after getting back from the park, explaining how I needed for him to give me some space and that he should take some time to work out his troubles before we can even think about working things out.

"I wish things were different with Max," I say, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my jumper.

Dad hums. "You've done the right thing, Penny. The way you were treated in the relationship is not okay."

After spilling some truths a couple months back, I have kept our troubles to myself, but last night, after a particularly bad anxiety attack, I told dad everything. I couldn't hold it in any longer and it sure was a relief to get another perspective on it.

When things were good, they were magical, but when they were bad, they were terrible. "I think he needs more healing before a relationship. There's absolutely no boundaries with him."

"And that's a red flag," he whispers, cautious of the sleeping passengers surrounding us. "You need to let him work his stuff out first. I know it's cliche, but you really do have to be truly happy before giving your heart over to someone."

...

We land at three in the morning U.K time, all of us dragging our feet to the taxi stop with all of our suitcases. My sickness seems to have passed for now which is nice, feeling mostly drained and ready for a hot shower.

I let the men be in charge of loading in the suitcases while climbing in the back with Vivienne. As soon as I reach for my seatbelt, she wraps me up in a hug, kissing the top of my head. Fraser takes a step to look at us through the window, his gaze concerned, raw, and a little bit angry.

I get it, I'm his little sister and dad has obviously confided in him a bit. We're all so close. I guess we had no choice after mum died, but whatever we feel, the other feels it just as intensely. My big brother has always been my hero and I have been his to protect.