Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(6)
Which would make me just another quack. The irony not lost on me. But if they only knew how much these men are risking daily, maybe they’d listen. Perhaps they’d band with them, join their cause.
Or maybe they’re the intelligent ones, aware of the tyranny but have purposely chosen to ignore it. It wasn’t long ago I was blissfully unaware.
The battle of good and evil isn’t news. In fact, it’s broadcast in plain sight every day. But at this point, even the news is unreliable, often projected in a way that requires deciphering fact from agenda-related fiction. But we choose to acknowledge what we want, and these people seem to have chosen wisely. Maybe my answer isn’t to get away, but become one of them, to blend in and play ignorant to all that’s wrong in this fucked-up world so I can breathe a little easier, so one day, I can mindlessly smile again. But as time passes, it’s becoming more and more apparent that that’s wishful thinking, because I can’t go back.
The men in my life pried my eyes open, made me aware of the war they’ve declared. And I know now if I were faced with the choice, I would scream my decision-all in. Forever in.
On the edge of the crowd near an alley between buildings, my attention gets diverted to the band whose lead singer greets us, some ear-piercing feedback coming out of the mic before he apologizes. “And now that we have your attention,” he chuckles as the sound clears before he cues the drummer, “let’s start this off right.” As the music starts to play and the ring of guitar and bass kicks in, I blot my face and nose into the arm of my thin sweater.
I’m an emotional mess in the fucking street at the apple festival.
I can’t do this. Not yet.
The lead starts to belt out some upbeat lyrics and I absorb them out of habit as he sings of being lost, falling on hard times, and encourages us to keep on smiling. I can’t help my ironic laugh as another warm tear slides down my face, and I wipe it away with my sleeve.
Yeah, I’m out.
One day.
Turning in the direction I parked, I’m captured by a hand on my hip. I dart my gaze behind me just as the scent of cedar and nicotine surrounds me. A shocked exhale bursts out of me, and I use it to my advantage and take a huge inhale, melting into his chest just as warm breath hits my ear. “Good one.”
His hand slides down to grip the wrist dangling at my side, and in the next second, I’m turned and standing chest to chest with Sean.
“Hey, Pup.”
Fresh tears fill my eyes as I gape at him, his sparkling eyes dimming when he reads my expression.
“What are you—”
Before I can get my question out, he snakes his arm around my waist and clasps his free hand with mine before leading us to the edge of the crowd.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I whisper shout. He wedges his knee between mine and dips low, one bounce, two. I stand limp in his arms as he squeezes our clasped hands.
“Come on, Pup,” he pleas as we start to gather attention. He rocks us in perfect time, dipping and swaying, urging me to do the same. “Come on, baby,” he prompts, his smile starting to fade when I remain immobile, “give me a sign of life.”
Butterflies swarm as he beckons me, impossible to ignore while rocking back on his heels with a sexy tilt in his hips. In the next step, I give in, letting the music fuel me as I dip with him and begin swiveling my hips. He winks at me in encouragement before he does a swift turn, gripping my hand behind his back and executing the move with ease. A few onlookers next to us call out with words of encouragement and cheers as a blush creeps up my neck. But this is Sean, his superpower, and he’s mastered it. So, I do the only thing I can. I give in to him.
And then we’re dancing, while he sings to me. His perfect physique sways along to the pace-setting bass, just as a harmonica chimes in. We rock along the crowded street, our footing effortless as we collectively twist apart before falling easily back together. We dance like we’ve been doing it for years, not a couple of months. Clear pride gleams in his emerald eyes when he sees me lighting up from within. Mid-song, the music suddenly stops as do the dancers surrounding us, and hands fly up as they collectively scream the lyrics, a pause hanging in the air a split second before everyone explodes back into motion.
I’ve never heard the song before—but I know I’ll never forget it—the lyrics far too ironic. They speak to me on the innermost level. And I take it for the gift it is. It’s here on Main Street that we steal time and fall back into the other, and just…dance. Together, we own our stolen moment and ignore the fucked-up world around us, our circumstances, and the odds stacked up against us. And for those short minutes of Indian summer, I breathe a little easier, and the ache lessens.
Nothing matters but me and my golden sun and the love I feel for him. I shake my head ironically as he struts us around, defiant, daring anyone to try and mess with our moment. It’s then I know we won’t let them, or anyone else ruin what we have. When the song ends, the crowd around us erupts in cheers as he leans in and takes my face in his hands. He bends briefly, a breath away before he claims my lips in a kiss so sincere that the ache I just evaded, gives way to agony.
Instinctively I know, today isn’t one day.
“I gotta go,” he murmurs in my ear, his hands pushing away the hair at my shoulder as his eyes beg for understanding.
“No, please—”
“I have to. I’m sorry.” I shake my head and drop my gaze as waiting tears start to fall. He tips my chin and searches my eyes, devastation in his own. “Please, Pup, eat,” he swipes his thumb across my chin, “dance, sing, smile.”