Page 32 of At First Flight (Coral Bell Cove #1)

Beneath us, the car hums quietly filled with heavy silence, but its not uncomfortable. Something unspoken bubbles with things left unsaid.

From my view in the passenger seat, I stare out the window at the passing oak trees.

Blurs and streaks of shadows and the descending sun.

Dean’s muscular body is barely contained by the belt and driver’s seat and his crisp, woodsy scent fills every cavity.

I may never wash these clothes again if it means I can keep his scent with me when I leave.

We’re headed back toward his house, passing my car at the school, and maybe toward something else, something we keep circling as if it might combust if we accept it head-on.

I know I’m the one who continues to pull back, to keep that line in the sand deep and sure, but with each passing day, that line softens with the tide.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, my voice nothing more than a husky whisper.

Dean glances at me quickly, then turns his gaze back to the road. “Thanks for the tour.”

The silence splices through the car again, but this time, I’m not the one to break the ice.

“You asked me earlier what happened on the call,” he says, eyes locked on the road ahead. “It’s not something easy to talk about, especially since I worked my ass off to keep it out of the news.”

My body shifts toward his, curiosity taking over. I don’t utter a word, just let him talk.

“My dad…he wasn’t the kind of man myself or my sister missed. Or anyone missed really. He made a lot of money in the business and used it like a leash toward me and my sister. Any love from him was conditional. You had to earn it. Play the role.”

My fingers toy with the hem of my shirt as I swallow. I know that kind of man—almost married one. They must have grown up reading the same manual.

“Growing up like that…” he says, his voice even but subdued, “you learn to disappear in plain sight. Be what they want. Be polished. Be silent. Be golden.”

My heart thumps erratically in my chest, tightening it beyond measure.

“I tried to understand how he could treat us…well, me…with such utter disdain. It was never as bad for my sister. Then when I graduated from boarding school, I learned the truth.”

He leaves the words hanging in the air, like a plump fruit hanging from a tree just out of reach.

“I’m the product of an illicit affair my mother had with my father’s best friend.”

The gasp tumbles from my lips before I can catch it.

“Mom confessed right after it happened, and he promised to keep it under wraps and stay with her so long as she made sure the business all went to him and cut ties with his friend. See, the yacht business comes from her side of the family, not his.”

“And so, he…”

“He pretended I was his… at least to the public. Behind closed doors, he made sure I knew I was a second-class citizen. If it wasn’t for Mom, I probably would have been shipped away forever.”

“Dean,” I murmur, my heart aching for the little boy who just wanted his father’s love.

He muffles out a haunted laugh, and my nerves twitch in dread.

“That’s not even the worst part. Once I found out who my biological father was, I learned he died in an airplane accident the year before. I never even got the chance to know the man.

“I once asked my mother to tell me about him, anything. My dad was standing just outside the door.” Dean’s fingers turn the palest shade of white as he grips the steering wheel. “Learned quickly not to make that mistake again.

“The entire thing blindsided me, left me feeling like a shadow in my own world. When I looked around, all I saw was a shell of a life. Big. Impressive. Empty.”

A lump clawed its way up my throat.

“Whatever relationship I had with my father fell to the wayside. Now, he’s nothing but a stranger and probably would have wished to stay that way until my sister died.

They’ve been trying to gain custody of the kids even though Gen specifically requested me as guardian.

My guess is to make sure their actual future heirs fit into their world. ”

“What happened on the call today?”

“I called him Dad, and he snapped. As usual. Old habits die hard, you know? And then he threw a guilt trip about my mom wanting to see the kids.

“They don’t know the first thing about raising kids. As far as I'm concerned, nannies and headmasters were our parents. What do they plan to do when Evelyn cries in the middle of the night or when Oliver asks for five more bedtime stories? Ignore them like they did to me?”

His jaw unclenches slightly. And that tiny shift wrecks me in a way I didn’t expect. My heart cracks quietly, completely.

“They don’t want the kids for any other reason than Oliver will one day inherit the business. They want to shape him into whatever they had planned for Genevieve and me. But I…those kids need me. Need me, Lila.”

“I know,” I whisper just as we turn onto the driveway that had seemed so picturesque when I first arrived. Now, it seems as dark as Dean’s confessions.

“Sorry for letting it all out like that. You didn’t sign up to nanny an adult, too.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to let it all out. Lord knows Ashvi has listened to me vent more times than I can count.”

The car idles inside the garage, headlights beaming on the wall as Dean puts the car in park. With the press of a button, he turns the car off, but neither of us makes a move to leave the vehicle.

Looking straight ahead, Dean asks, “Do you miss anything about your ex?”

My eyes trace the strong lines of his profile as I contemplate how to answer. Do I go with the answer I’ve given everyone else, or do I go with the truth?

“I do.” His eyes cut over to mine, his body shifting slightly in the seat. I peer down at our hands, resting close but not touching on the center console. My skin prickles with the desire to reach out and confess something real. But the words stick somewhere between embarrassment and wanting.

“I don’t know how to say this,” I admit in no louder than a whisper.

I can feel his gaze on me, steady and unwavering, as he speaks. His words linger in the air between us.

“It won’t change what I think or feel for you,” Dean says, and my heart skips, my pulse stuttering in my chest.

I lift my eyes to his, trying to process what he’s just said, but all I can feel is a strange fluttering in my stomach. Nerves, disbelief, and something else too, something that might be hope.

His intense eyes are still on me like he’s trying to decipher every thought that flickers across my face.

“How are you real?” I whisper, the question slipping from my mouth before I can stop it. His presence, his words, they feel too perfect to be true.

Dean’s lips curl up at the edges, a slight smile that seems to melt the tension in the room.

“I’m as real and as flawed as any man, sweetheart.

But I thought I’d made it pretty clear by now that I’m completely captivated by you, Lila.

From the moment I saw you running through that airport, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.

” He leans closer, and I feel it in my chest, the way his words wrap around me like a comforting embrace.

This isn’t a fling to him. I can see that now. His gaze softens, sincerity pouring from him in waves. “None of this is a joke to me. Your feelings, your needs, your wants, and your desires—they matter, Lila. And I’m not taking any of them lightly.”

My heart skips, the weight of his words pressing into me.

No man has ever cared so deeply, so unapologetically, about me.

Not like this. And it terrifies me, the way it stirs something in me I haven’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

It’s power, in the best possible sense. A power that makes me feel brave like I could take on the world if he’s beside me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “I… really like you too, Dean.” The words come out quieter than I expected, but they’re true, and they feel good to say.

“I’m trying, Dean. I’m trying so hard to work through my fears and doubts.

Because being around you…” I falter, the words catching in my throat.

“It’s so easy and exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Yet it’s comforting, too. But sometimes, my fear of messing up…

it outweighs the possibility of something amazing. Something like this.”

There’s a long pause, where the silence between us thickens. Dean doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to fix it or fill it with words. He just listens. His eyes never leave mine, unwavering, and I feel every inch of his focus on me, on my words, on the vulnerability I’ve just laid bare.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks again. His voice is softer this time, as if he’s trying to read me, to understand me. “What is it you miss about your ex?”

I freeze. My breath catches in my chest, and for a moment, everything about this moment feels delicate—fragile, like I might shatter if I don’t tread carefully. But even as the weight of his question presses down on me, I know it’s a question I need to answer. For him. For me.

But more than that… it’s a question that will push me toward whatever it is we’re building between us. And for the first time, I want to let it. I want to see where this goes. I want to stop running from what feels so right.

The stillness stretches until I bravely reply, “It’s not him so much as it’s that I miss intimacy. I miss being in a relationship. I’m not sure if you can tell, but I don’t think I’m a one-night-stand kind of girl.”

“So, you miss sex?” His signature smirk I’m coming to love twists on the corner of his lips.

“Yes, but I also miss having a partner. Someone who has my back all the time. Someone to share my hopes and dreams with.”

“And you had that with Prescott?”

My breath stops as I pause to consider his question. Did I have that with Prescott?

“I’m…I’m not even sure I was in love with him. I think I was in love with the thought of him, you know?”