If We Fly: A What If Novel Read online

  If We Fly

  A What If Novel

  Nina Lane

  © 2018 Nina Lane. All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9995410-7-4

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Cover photography: Sara Eirew

  Cover design: Concierge Literary Designs & Photography

  Contents

  Note

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Also By Nina Lane

  IF WE FLY

  A What If Novel

  Nina Lane

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  Can our broken wings still fly?

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  Don’t miss the FREE prequel to Josie and Cole’s story. Click here to download IF WE LEAP.

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  Reading Order:

  * * *

  IF WE LEAP (prequel)

  IF WE FALL

  IF WE FLY

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  Click to sign up for Nina’s newsletter and receive a free novel.

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  www.ninalane.com

  MJ Fryer and Maria D., this one is for you.

  Thank you both so much.

  Prologue

  Josie

  * * *

  Ten years ago

  * * *

  “How could you do that without telling me?” I zipped my art portfolio shut with a sharp movement and set it beside the door. “I have my art show prep the week before.”

  “Why didn’t you put it on the calendar?” Cole turned from his computer, his thick-lashed blue eyes flashing with irritation. He shoved a spoon back into an open jar of peanut-butter and dark chocolate spread. “That’s why we have a synced calendar, so we know what’s going on.”

  “Your synced calendar is a pain to update. You can’t even see an entire month at a time. That’s why I bought the wall calendar.” I flung my hand toward the Kandinsky calendar pinned up in our tiny kitchen. “You don’t have to turn anything on to see what we have planned.”

  “So why isn’t your art show prep on the wall calendar either?”

  “It is! I wrote it down as soon as it was scheduled.”

  He jutted his chin to the calendar in a clear challenge. I stalked to the kitchen and flipped to the month of June, where almost every square contained an item written in Cole’s block penmanship—Coastal Ecosystems, 12:00pm; work 4:00am; Aquarium, 2-4; Chemistry, 9:00am. All in black ink, the color he’d designated for himself. There was only one thing written in blue ink, which he’d told me was my color.

  “Look.” I jabbed my finger at Friday, June twentieth. “Mom and Dad’s twenty-fifth surprise anniversary party. Six o’clock, the Seagull Inn.”

  “And your art show?”

  “I swear I wrote it down.” I dropped the calendar pages in frustration. Multicolored Post-Its and taped notes decorating the front and side of the fridge caught my attention. I tore off a yellow note from beside the water dispenser and held it up triumphantly. “Here! Week of June fourth, art show prep.”

  “That is a refrigerator,” Cole said in his deep, measured tone. “Not a calendar.”

  We glared at each other like wolves stalking their territory. Though the sight of my guy usually turned me all soft and mushy inside, I steeled myself against his potent effect. Tall and broad-shouldered with his faded Ford’s College T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest, his sun-streaked brown hair rumpled, and his skin bronzed…he made me want to rub up against him like a cat stretching in the sun.

  Except, at the moment, I was mad at him.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Josephine.”

  “Colton.” My irritation hardened again at his patronizing tone. “You know, for a man who lives by a freaking plan, I’m surprised you haven’t started scheduling our sex life on the calendar.”

  “Who says I haven’t?” He dug the spoon into the Choco-Nut and licked it, his eyebrow lifted.

  “You lie like a rug. What about when we did it in the shower last week? You can’t tell me you had that all planned out.”

  “Okay, I won’t tell you that. And you’re changing the subject.”

  “The subject is that you agreed to a camping trip with Lucy and Mike right before my art show.” I grabbed a frozen pizza from the freezer and stabbed the oven preheat buttons. “At least you didn’t rent the trailer.”

  His gaze suddenly shifted. He turned back to his computer.

  I tossed the pizza on the counter in disbelief. “You did not already rent the trailer.”

  “There was a special deal,” he replied defensively. “I didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Oh my God.” I threw my hands into the air. “You’re like King Magus. He wouldn’t even accept Zane’s alliance offer before going after Lazarus because it hadn’t been part of his plan. Then Lazarus launched that sneak attack and killed him, which I swear Zane would have—”

  “Wait a minute.” Cole rotated slowly in his swivel chair to face me. “Did you just say Lazarus kills Magus?”

  Oh, shit.

  “Uh…I mean, I might have read something—”

  “You watched ahead, didn’t you?” He rose to his feet and started toward me. Faint menace glinted in his eyes. “How many episodes?”

  “Just…a few. Three, maybe.” I backed up, my heart kicking up in gear. “Or four. Five! Five episodes, okay? I’m sorry. It’s just that you get home so late, and I need to wind down a little before going to sleep so…”

  He stopped in front of me, his arms crossed over his broad chest. God, he smelled good—like oranges, peanut butter, and dark chocolate. I stiffened my spine.

  “Now you’re changing the subject,” I said.

  “You were trying to get me thinking about sex.” His expression darkened. “I am pointing out your transgression in watching Empire of Gods without me.”

  “What about your transgression in making plans without me?”

  “I wouldn’t have done that if you’d kept your part of the calendar updated.”

  “You totally would have. You have a very bad habit of making plans and scheduling stuff without asking me first.”

  “You have a very bad habit of not telling me what the hell you have going on.”

  “Well, with all our bad habits, maybe we shouldn’t have moved in together in the first place!”

  “Yeah, maybe not,” he snapped.

  I glowered. He glared. Tension sparked in the air.

  “We should kiss,” he finally said.

  “Okay.”

  He stepped closer, backing me up against the wall and putting his hands on either side of my head. My anger slipped away, replaced by a combination of relief and the heady anticipation of a kiss from Cole Danforth. Even with space between us, heat radiated from his skin, like he’d absorbed the sun. Everything about him was always so warm, from his taut skin to the flare in his blue eyes.

  He skimmed his gaze across my lips and lowered his mouth to mine. Arousal burst inside me. I loved the way he kissed me, as if he wanted to devour me. He held the sides of my
neck and tilted my head to just the right angle before slipping his tongue past my lips. I curled my fingers into his shirt, my blood simmering. A familiar tension began to lace his body.

  “What were we arguing about?” he muttered.

  “I can’t remember. Something about King Magus…”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore.” He deepened the kiss and pressed me against the wall.

  He cupped my breasts, rubbing my nipples through my shirt and bra. Shivers coursed through me, centering in my lower body. Slowly he pulled my shirt over my head and made quick work of my purple bra.

  “So fucking perfect.” He bent to kiss my breasts, flicking his tongue over my hard nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

  Heat swept through my veins. I gasped, driving my fingers into his thick hair, and pressed my thighs together. He could fire me up from zero to sixty in no time at all, and I loved it. He pinched my nipple and slipped his hand down into the waistband of my yoga pants. The instant he eased his long fingers into my pussy, desire burst through me like an exploding star.

  “Firecracker,” he murmured. “Want me to set you off?”

  A laugh rose to my throat. “Like the Fourth of July.”

  With a grin, he bent to tug my pants and cherry-printed panties off my legs, pressing a line of kisses down to my bellybutton and back up to my breasts. He rose to his feet and leaned his forehead against mine, delving his fingers between my legs again.

  I dragged in a breath. God, his touch was so expert, his fingers stroking all the right places, his body vibrating with urgency…pressure throbbed and built like a crescendo through my sex.

  He pulled me toward him, one strong arm circling my waist as he worked his fingers faster and harder. I pressed my face into his shoulder, straining toward the whirlwind of pleasure moving ever closer. Sensations burst through me. Muffling my cry against his shoulder, I came sharp and fast.

  Even as the vibrations still quivered through me, I urged us both into the bedroom. I tumbled back onto the bed, panting and aching for more.

  With a snap of my fingers, I indicated his clothes. “Off.”

  He winked and stripped, revealing his incredible body—smooth skin burnished golden-brown from the sun; hard, well-defined pecs and a washboard stomach whose ridges I loved tracing with both my fingers and my tongue.

  He climbed on top of me, his erection pulsing against my thigh, and lowered his mouth to mine. His kiss scorched me, fired me with fresh heat. My body, my heart, my soul—everything opened for him, welcomed him inside.

  He filled me with slow, agonizingly delicious ease, his thick shaft pulsing against my inner walls, his body a heavy weight between my thighs. I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he pulled back and pushed forward. We both fell, spiraling downward into the rhythmic cadence that now came so naturally to us.

  “So good.” I wiggled my hips, loving the sensation of him throbbing inside me. “I have an idea.”

  “What kind of idea?”

  “An idea for an art series.” I groaned and arched into him. “Let’s cover ourselves with body paint and have sex on a bunch of big canvases. Whatever we create will be the artwork. Okay?”

  He grabbed my hips and turned me over, giving my rear a little spank. “I’m not letting you display your perfect tits to the public.”

  “The way we mess around, I doubt anything will be recognizable.” I got onto my hands and knees, closing my eyes when he pushed my thighs apart and positioned himself at my slit. “Will you…oh!”

  He thrust into me, hard and deep. My body jerked forward, and then I was lost in the maelstrom of his heavy plunges. He gripped my hips. I clutched the bedcovers.

  “Okay?” I gasped.

  “Why do you always ask me this kind of thing when we’re fucking?” he grunted.

  “Because I figure I have a better chance of you saying yes.”

  “You’re right.”

  “So?”

  “Goddamn…” He shoved so deep inside me I cried out, my inner muscles clenching and flexing around his shaft. “Good thing I love you so much.”

  “A very good thing…oh my God, Cole…”

  “Almost there…almost…fuck.”

  He stilled, a heavy growl rumbling from his throat as he gave in to his release. I loved it when he got all incoherent with lust, knowing I was the reason why. He pulled out of me with another groan and flopped down to tug me into his arms.

  After slipping his hand between my legs, he brought me expertly to another shattering orgasm before we both lay there, chests heaving and bodies damp with sweat.

  “I’ll cancel the camping trip,” he said.

  “If I can get help with my art show, I might be able to work it out.” I stroked his abdomen. “And what do you say about the canvases? I’ll call it Love Smudges.”

  A hoarse chuckle broke from him. “You’re a nut.”

  “Will you do it?”

  “I’ll do anything for you.” He kissed my forehead. “Even make a print of my ass.”

  I grinned. “I promise I won’t use any glue.”

  “Maybe it should be the color blue.” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Um…and we could practice kung fu.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “We’ll just have to make do.”

  “Do you have any shampoo?”

  “No, but I want a tattoo.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

  He laughed, a booming chuckle that warmed me like hot cocoa.

  “Really does not rhyme with tattoo.” He tugged a lock of my hair, his eyes creasing with amusement. “You lose, Josie Bird.”

  “You are such a nerd.”

  “Oh, no. Game’s over.” He curled his hand around the back of my neck and drew me in for another kiss. “But I still think my ass would look good in blue.”

  “Colton Danforth, I love you.”

  Chapter 1

  Josie

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  Present

  * * *

  A red-gold sunrise paints the horizon and splashes over the cove, but the Water’s Edge pier is desolate. The shops and restaurants are all dark and closed. Pigeons peck at crushed wrappers and bits of food. The carnival rides are still, the game booths shuttered.

  On the Ocean Carousel, all the sea creatures are frozen in their various positions. Unlike ten years ago, they are now rundown and worn with flaking paint and faded colors. The two-seater whale is still grinning, but her red lipstick is peeling and much of the paint has chipped off her body.

  Pulling my army jacket more closely around me, I turn away from the carousel and walk back to the pier entrance. My takeout coffee has grown bitter and cold in the hour I’ve been walking through town and along the beach.

  Beyond a cracked concrete wall at the side of the pier, the docks bustle with workers and fishermen. Lobster boats stream toward the open sea.

  Did Cole ever work on a lobster boat again after that night? Or was the accident a guillotine slicing his past and present in half?

  I return to Lantern Square and unlock the storage cabinet where I keep all the paints and supplies for the mural. Though many of the town’s residents have stopped by over the past weeks to help me paint the outlined scene, for safety reasons the festival committee barred anyone but me from using the mechanical lift they brought in to replace the scaffolding.

  So I’m the only one who can paint the upper half of the mural—treetops, sky, the top of Eagle Mountain, the rooftops, the sun.

  I set a few cans of paint on the lift and lever it upward to the top of the mural. Though birds are dotted throughout the lower half—chickadees, pigeons, ducks, sandpipers, warblers—the sky and trees are where I’ve outlined birds in flight.

  Geese in a V-formation. Chickadees flying in a loose line. Finches in a neat oval. Ravens in a small family group.

  As I work, carefully shading in the birds’ feather colors and markings, the square comes to life for another day. People arrive to fetch their mo
rning coffee at one of the cafés, a bus drops off a group of office workers, and the parking spaces fill with cars.

  “It’s a gaggle of geese, right?” My sister’s voice rises from below.

  “Yes.” Shading my eyes from the ascending sun, I look down at her. In a loose summer maternity dress with her hair up in a ponytail, Vanessa looks lovely and more relaxed than I’ve seen her since I came back to Castille. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have an early doctor’s appointment, so I stopped to get a decaf latte.” She holds up a frothy cup of coffee. “You want me to get you something?”

  “No, thanks. I have one already.” After lowering the lift, I climb off and approach her. “Do you want me to go with you to the doctor?”

  “No, it’s just a checkup.” She pats her belly, then gestures to the mural. “It’s really looking amazing. I love that you put in so many birds. A kit of pigeons.”

  “A charm of finches. A wisdom of owls.” I look up at the ravens skimming past Eagle Mountain. “An unkindness of ravens.”

  “That’s not very nice.” She chuckles. “Clearly someone had something against black birds.”

  “Ravens are associated with the dead and lost souls.” I wipe my hands on a rag and pick up another paintbrush. “An omen of bad luck.”