The Reality of Everything Flight & Glory Read online Rebecca Yarros

Categories Genre: Angst, Chick Lit, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
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But, in my defense, they were right there in my face.

She’d taken out both horizontal planks, leaving the surrounding wood intact instead of splintering into her, but she’d definitely be feeling those abrasions and bruises up her sides for a while. Her ribs were scraped raw and bleeding slightly in places.

“Finley, stay here, honey. I’m not sure it’s safe to come up the stairs.”

After she nodded, I walked around the staircase and started up the steps, dropping to my knees a few steps beneath the landing, so I could look my very embarrassed neighbor in the eye. Well, I would once she stopped squeezing them shut.

Oh, fuck me. She was the knockout from the beach earlier. The gorgeous one with the hair, and the eyes, and the sundress currently keeping her company above the landing.

“Hey there,” I said softly.

She opened one eye, then the other—like she was hoping I’d disappeared—and I was met with a stunning set of browns, dark at the edges, paling to amber at the centers, and framed by long, thick lashes. Every word I’d been about to speak evaporated from my head. Her eyes were as striking as she was, but there was something about them—a deep, lingering sadness that I bet had jack and shit to do with the predicament she was currently in. I’d seen a flash of it on the beach, but it was even more pronounced up close, and damn if it didn’t trigger a need to save her from whatever caused it, too.

“Hi,” she answered, her southern accent thicker than honey.

“Looks like you could use some help.” I concentrated on not swallowing my tongue. The phrase stunningly beautiful wasn’t new to me, but this was the first time I’d ever been actually…stunned.

“I’m really okay,” she protested with the fakest smile I’d ever seen. It would have almost been comical if I hadn’t already seen her skin and how much pain she had to be in. “My girlfriends will be back any minute, so there’s really no reason to trouble yourself.”

Whoa. Yeah, that accent was deeper than anything the natives spoke with around here, and twice as sexy as that Irish girl last summer who’d rented out the place next to Sawyer’s.

“Trouble myself? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of stuck in your staircase.”

“It has not escaped my attention.” She kept that stubborn smile.

“How badly does it hurt? Scale of one to ten?”

Maybe it was because I’d softened my tone or the adrenaline was wearing off, but she sighed and dropped the pretense along with her shoulders.

“Five? A little scraped, I think, but mostly just mortified. I’m sure I can pop right out of this—” She tried to push up on her forearms, and I cringed. “Or not.”

“Careful, you skinned your ribs.”

“Feels like it. Most of the pain is there, in my hips…and my dignity. But I can’t quite get a full breath.”

“You are wedged pretty tight there, Kitty.” The nickname slipped off my tongue before I could stop it.

She groaned, dropping her chin to her chest, and even the tips of her ears blushed pink. “Of all the things to be wearing. This is right up there with that one time my cheerleading skirt got tucked into my spankies,” she mumbled.

“Spank…what?” I laugh-whispered to keep Finley from hearing.

Her head popped up, and she rolled her eyes. “Spankies. They’re…you know—bloomers. They go under cheerleading skirts. I really wish I was wearing them right now, as a matter of fact.”

And now that I had that image in my head…

“Well, let’s get you out of this mess.” I scanned the landing, studying the other boards that looked ready to give way if I put any weight on them. “I don’t have the right angle to pull you out from here, and if we break any of those boards, we chance hurting you more. We’re going to have to lift you out. You good with that?”

She pressed her full lips together in a tight line and nodded.

“Let’s do it.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, then walked down the steps and under the landing, doing my best to ignore her mostly naked lower half hanging in my face. Chances were she was involved with whomever drove that lifted F250 parked by the old boathouse. It practically screamed alpha male from the size of the tires to the light rack. Takes one to know one.

Not that it mattered. Anyone who lived next door or knew Finley was off the one-night-stand table, which was all I was capable of.

Fin tripped over my feet, and I caught her by the waist before she smacked her head on the support pillar.

“Fin, honey. Why don’t you give me some space, here? I don’t want to squash your toes.”

Fin nodded, then scurried out from under my feet and retreated to the patio chairs that lined our section of the fence, eager to watch the show.



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