Broken Wings by Erika Ashby

Author:Erika Ashby [Ashby, Erika]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Military, Fiction
ISBN: 9781496135391
Amazon: 1496135393
Barnesnoble: 1496135393
Goodreads: 18763392
Publisher: Erika Ashby
Published: 2014-03-06T05:00:00+00:00

DREAD SETS IN as I get my stuff ready to leave today. I hate that I have to leave. I really do. And I hate that it has to be so soon. I’ve still barely started to wrap my head around losing Lincoln, but the fact that I’m now getting yanked away from Lynsie, when I know she needs me, is damn near unbearable.

The truth is, I need her too. Not because of my feelings. Those deeper feelings have been put on hold. She’s helping me heal, and I’m just worried how well I’m going to adjust without my daily dose of her. I’ve gotten too used to being around her daily.

I grab my bag and head downstairs, dread sinking in as I realize I’m about to say goodbye. She’s already been down here for a while. The smell of bacon makes my stomach growl. I drop my bag as I hit the last step and see her nervously waiting at the table with our plates already made.

“You didn’t have to fix me breakfast, Lyns.” I pull my chair out and sit down across from her.

“I know.” She smiles nervously, tightly grasping her coffee cup. “I haven’t cooked in a long time. It just felt right this morning.”

She rolls her paper towel between her fingertips as she eyes me, waiting for me to dig in. I fork up some eggs and take a bite of bacon at the same time. I’ve always been one of those people who likes to mix their food together. I’ve never been a fan of plates or trays that try to separate all the different food groups into their nicely scooped areas.

I add a bite of my toast, swallowing it all down. Lynsie watches me in amazement as I tackle my plate like I haven’t eaten in years. I normally don’t devour my food in record time, but she’s not touching her plate, and I want her to know that I appreciate what she did. I know what it took for her to do something she hasn’t done in over a month. It’s progress. She doesn’t recognize it, but I do and I’m going to overindulge in it.

“Man, that’s the best breakfast I’ve had in I can’t even tell you how long.” I sit back, pooching my full stomach out and rubbing it.

She laughs at my silly display. “I’m glad you liked it. I wanted to do something nice before you left.” Giving me a weak smile, she stands and grabs her plate, heading for the trash can.

“Lynsie, you really need to eat.”

Besides feeling queasy here and there, she hasn’t had any bouts of sickness except for a few times.

She places her foot on the pedal at the bottom of the trashcan and I hear her food falling into it. “I did. I ate a piece of toast and drank a cup of orange juice while I made your breakfast. Eggs sounded good.” She drops her plate in the sink, then turns around, leaning against the counter.

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