Riders on the Storm (Waiting for the Sun #2)

by Robin Hill

  That plane is going to crash.

  Panic swells in my chest causing my eyes to blur. I push out of my seat and grip the one in front of me. “Do you know what’s happening?”

  “I do.”

  “Then why are you just sitting there?” I step into the center aisle. “Do something!”

  He smiles. “What would you have me do?”

  “Fight!” I say as my feet begin to move. “Fight, dammit!”

  “Why, Francesca? You didn’t.”

  “I did. I am! I…I need more time.”

  “It seems we’re out of time,” he says, looking past me.

  I whip my head around, but there’s nothing there. “You said you’d wait. You said this wasn’t the end.”

  The window fogs up and his face begins to fade. He lifts a finger to the glass and draws a heart. “I loved you,” he says and then erases it with his fist as the lights inside the cabin start to flicker.

  “You love me, Darian! Love, not loved!”

  “Goodbye, Francesca.”

  My eyes snap open and I sit up against the headboard, frantically kicking the tangled covers from my legs. I hold my hand to my neck, my pulse throbbing beneath it, and wait for my breathing to slow.

  “You’re okay,” I whisper to the empty room. “It was just a dream.”

  But it wasn’t just a dream. It was one of those dreams—only this time it was Darian, not his daughter, who was on the plane.

  When I was a child, my dreams were reenactments. Images my mind conjured from bits and pieces of news stories. This one felt like a premonition: You’re going to lose him.

  The sound of running water lures me from my bed. I walk on shaky legs to the bathroom, but as I reach for the door, I hesitate. Nerves prick my skin like needles. I know what I have to do—I only hope I’m strong enough to do it. Exhaling, I slowly turn the knob and step inside. The shower curtain’s drawn, and I don’t think he hears me come in. I cross to the counter and push myself on top of it.

  “I’m in here,” I say. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  Darian shuts off the faucet and pokes his head around the curtain. His eyes narrow when he finds me sitting beside the sink. “Just a sec.” He emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, concern evident in the line etched between his brows. “What happened?”

  “Bad dream,” I say, my gaze aimed at my swinging feet.

  He stands in front of me, stopping them with his towel-clad thighs. “How bad?”

  “Bad bad.” I slowly lift my eyes to meet his. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were gone.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, smoothing his hand over my knee. “I’m right here.”

  “Tonight. Tomorrow. The next day, maybe. But soon, you won’t be.” I take a ragged breath. “I know you’d wait for me if I asked you to.”

  He nods. “Yeah. I would.”

  “But I can’t ask you to. You have a life in Miami. A business to run. People counting on you.” I gather my hair in my fist and pile it on top of my head. “And God, Darian, you don’t have shit here. I see you squinting when you read because you don’t have your glasses. And your T-shirts…” I make a face.

  “What’s wrong with my T-shirts?”

  “Nothing. They’re just plain. But they aren’t nearly as bad as your boxers. Your boxers are plaid.”

  Darian bites back a smile. “You have a thing against plaid?”

  “I have a thing against you not being you. Especially when it’s my fault.”

  “Francesca, I’m still me. Those are just clothes. Things. And I do have ‘shit here.’” One corner of his mouth quirks up. “I have you.” His expression softens. “Baby, none of this is your fault.”

  “Every day you’re here, I’m the one keeping you.” I let go of my hair and start swinging my legs again. “What about Amanda? What does she say about your extended absence?”

  Darian grips the counter on either side of me, bringing us closer together and causing my feet to still. “I want to be with you. Whatever that means. Whatever it takes. Just tell me—without overthinking it—what do you want?”

  “You,” I say, without thinking at all. “I woke up from that nightmare and all I wanted was you. I want to see your face every day. Talk to you in person. And when I have a bad dream, I want to know you’re beside me.” I blink my eyes closed and when I open them, tears trickle over my lashes. “I don’t want to wake up without you.”

  “Then don’t.” Darian drags his thumbs across my cheeks and cups my face in his hands. “Please, Francesca, just come with me. Try to trust me.”

  “I am trying.” My knees part and he moves in, closing what little gap there is between us. “I know you love me, but you tried not to. You didn’t want to.”

  “Francesca…”

  “And I get it. I do. You made a promise to your wife and now you’re breaking it…for me.” I close my hands over his and bring them to rest in my lap. “But what happens when the newness fades and the guilt becomes too much? What if you decide you can’t love us both? Where will that leave me?”

  “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I won’t let it,” he says, and the tightness in his voice makes me wonder who he’s trying to convince.

  Long, quiet seconds pass without a word, and then a whip-poor-will’s chant pours through the window, breaking the silence. This time, I’d have to agree with Darian. The devil bird’s song sounds ominous.

  “When we were on the island and I asked you to make love to me, you couldn’t. I’m worried you still can’t.” And just like I did then, I pull my shirt over my head and give it to him. His breath hitches. “I’m right here, right now. Telling you I want to go. I want to move to Miami with you. I’m trying to trust you.” I lower my gaze to the cotton clutched in his fist. “It’s okay if you want to give it back to me. I just need to know.”

  His grip loosens, and my shirt falls to the floor. “This is what I want. You are what I want.”

  He kisses me then, and it’s nothing like the last kiss we shared. Where that one was slow and tentative, this one is eager and aggressive. My arms circle his neck, and my fingers tangle in his damp hair. I tug at the strands, eliciting a moan as he lifts me off the counter. Without breaking the kiss, he carries me into my bedroom and lays me on the bed. I feel the mattress give beneath me as he balances his weight on his knee, wedged between my thighs. He lifts his head, severing our connection, and watches me with an intensity I haven’t seen from him before.

  “You asked me to make love to you, and I panicked. But the truth is, that’s all I’ve ever done. I’m sorry I lied to you. I lied to us both.” He slowly drags his fingers through my hair. “So I’m not just going to make love to you, Francesca. I’m going to make love to you again. And I’m never going to stop.”

  His warm, soft lips and fervent tongue return to my mouth before descending down my body, from my neck to my breasts and stomach, then to the scalloped edge of my panties. With two fingers hooked inside the band, he pulls them down my legs and past my ankles. His eyes rake over me as he kneels at my feet, and with a single flick of his wrist, the towel around his waist falls away.

  My breath stills. It’s a sight I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again—Darian desiring me. Wanting me.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice hums against my skin as he crawls back up my body.

  With one hand cupping my neck and the other on the swell of my hip, he flips us over. My hair curtains his face, and I become transfixed by his eyes, dark and emerald, as they stare up at me. Part of me wishes we could stay this way forever. But a bigger part of me wants more.

  I want tomorrow too.

  Darian tucks my fallen hair behind my ears. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling. “I am.”

  His hands begin to roam, and I writhe between his wandering fingers and the strong, mascul
ine body stretched beneath me. After exploring every reachable inch of skin, he grips the backs of my thighs and spreads my legs until I’m straddling him.

  I sit up and close my fist around his sinewy length, firm and smooth and perfect in my hand. His teeth clench as I go to my knees and lower myself onto him. Then he rises to meet me, our bodies converging—his sternum at my breasts, his lips at my neck. His warm breath feathers my throat while the light sheen of sweat on my back catches the cool air of my bedroom.

  With my head tilted to the side, my eyes closed, I lose myself in every possible way. My desire for him consumes me, and I let it. It isn’t until I feel the absence of his mouth on my skin that I look up. Our eyes lock, and in that moment, everything we’ve yet to voice is said.

  Please, whispers his silence. Don’t give up. Trust me to love you.

  I won’t and I do, my heart whispers back. And I’ll go with you anywhere.

  The decision is made—confirmed—right there between us in the wordless exchange. My shoulders relax, the weight they’ve carried for weeks falling away in that one simple “yes.” Darian feels it too. I know by the spark in his eyes, the slight curl of his parted lips, and the groan they expel as he throws me onto my back and drives into me. His body possesses me, claiming me the way I’m ready to be claimed.

  I’m yours, my heart cries out to his. I’m yours and you’re mine and I love you.

  Tell All the People

  Drew: How’s Texas?

  Darian: I asked her to move in with me.

  Drew: And?

  Darian: She said yes.

  Drew: Holy shit, man! That’s great!

  Darian: I’ll let you know when we’re headed home.

  Drew: Congrats, Dare.

  Frankie

  I feel our fingers twine and our palms press together. Darian’s lips brush across my knuckles, the back of my hand, the inside of my wrist.

  A grin finds my face before I can even get my eyes open. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” His voice is thick and raspy—no sign of the playful lilt I expected after the night we had.

  I slowly lift my lids and take him in. He wears tension like a mask, brows pinched together, his mouth twisted in a scowl.

  “Hey,” I whisper, rolling onto my side to face him. “You okay?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  I laugh. “I just woke up. Haven’t really had time to think about it.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I say. “I don’t want to miss a minute of this. Of us.”

  A long sigh gusts out of him. He shakes his head and smiles. “I was worried you might regret what happened last night. I mean, with the beer…and then your nightmare.”

  “What are you talking about? I threw my shirt at you, remember?” I smirk as I curl into him, snapping in place like a puzzle piece, my cheek to his chest, his chin above my head. I hug our joined hands between us.

  Darian drags lazy fingers up and down my bare arm—the sensation nearly luring me back to sleep, until he says, “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell Jane?”

  The mention of my best friend’s name causes my chest to tighten. “I was thinking maybe I’d skip that.”

  “Have you talked to her at all? Does she even know I asked you?”

  “No,” I whisper, shame lowering my gaze to the sheets bunched between us. “I talked to Lucy because she’s Lucy. She’s the closest thing I have to a mother. But Jane…”

  Jane’s everything to me.

  “I’m not judging,” Darian says gently. “I just wondered. This was a decision you had to make for yourself, and Jane—”

  “Jane can be opinionated,” I finish. “And she’s impossible to predict.”

  Is she though? I think you know what she’s going to say.

  My jaw clenches. “But I can’t avoid her forever.”

  “I could make myself scarce,” he says. “Run into town and get some boxes?” His hand stills on my wrist. “I’m not rushing you. I just meant, to get out of the house for a while. Give you some privacy.”

  “No, it’s okay, and actually, I don’t think it’ll take me long to pack.” I glance around my bedroom. “I’m only taking the things that are important to me—which pretty much amounts to books and pictures.” My eyes begin to sting and I turn to face the wall with my back to him. “We can leave tomorrow if you want.”

  Before I have time to change my mind.

  “Tomorrow? That soon? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” I swallow. “I’m sure.”

  When I was nine years old, my school thought it would be in my best interest if I skipped fourth grade. I was terrified. Fifth graders were at the top of the food chain, and they were mean, nasty little humans. On my very first day, Lauren Holloway pretended to bump into me and spilled her tray down the front of my new dress. Spaghetti, of course. The cafeteria roared. Everyone except Jane, who climbed on top of her table and called the entire class a bunch of donkey balls. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

  My heart grows heavier with each picture of us I pull from its place in my cabin. I won’t take them all, only enough to make Darian’s house feel a bit more like home.

  My new home.

  A text lights up my phone as I set a final stack of frames on my kitchen table.

  Jane: Back from the writers retreat. I won’t yell at you for not calling me because I was slightly preoccupied and didn’t call you either. He’s Italian, BTW.

  My lips curve into a smile as I dial her number. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Italian?” I ask. “What’s his name?”

  “Adolfo. Or Alfonso. I don’t know. I called him Italian Stallion.”

  I shake my head. “Really? Could you be more clichéd?”

  “Sometimes a name just fits.” Jane sighs. “I’m telling you, Frankie, I rode that man—”

  “Okay, okay,” I say, grimacing. “I get it. So I’m guessing since you don’t even know his name, your love affair is over?”

  “Oh, hell yes. He lives in New York, and I’m not about to do the long-distance thing. Speaking of Darian…”

  I sink into the only empty chair at the kitchen table. “Darian. Funny you should mention him.”

  “Why?” she asks, her voice suddenly curt. “Did he fuck up again? Because if he did, I’m gonna—”

  “Jane, chill. He didn’t fuck up. He’s been great, actually.” I move a pile of books to the floor, giving me just enough room to prop my elbows on the table. “The label is opening an Austin branch, and Darian bought office space downtown.”

  Jane lets out a shaky laugh. “You made it sound like something bad. Darian’s moving to Austin? Frankie, that’s great!”

  Oh boy.

  I chew the inside of my cheek while trying to find the words, but my stalling silence gives her time to jump to her own conclusions.

  “Frankie,” she says slowly. “Are you moving to Austin with him?”

  Not exactly.

  I blow out a breath. “I’m moving to Miami with him.”

  There’s a small stretch of dead air, and then I hear Jane’s hardwoods creak beneath her feet as she begins to pace. A dozen or so steps later, the pacing stops.

  “But not full-time,” I think to add. “We’ll live there part-time and here part-time.”

  She still doesn’t speak, and it’s so quiet on her end, I wonder if the call was dropped.

  I check my signal and see that it wasn’t. “Jane, I love him.”

  “I know.” A pause and then, “When?”

  I smile. “I love you too.”

  “When?”

  “Um…” I mumble, straightening in my chair. “Tomorrow-ish.”

  “Jesus, Frankie.”

  “Please don’t be mad.”

  “Don’t be mad? I’m not mad, I’m freaking out! I’ve only been gone a few days. How the h
ell did this happen in a few days? I swear to God if you tell me I need to start shopping for a bridesmaid dress, I’m going to lose my shit.” She gasps. “Fuck, Frankie, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

  “Jane! You were with me when I got my shot!” I push out of my chair and move to the window. “Is it really so inconceivable that I want to be with him because I love him?”

  “But move? Why do you have to move?” The floorboards creak again. Once. Twice. “Wait. You said he was opening an Austin branch. Why are you moving to Miami? Why isn’t he moving here?”

  “Because it will be a while before it’s operational, and I don’t want to wait.” I turn around and lean against the counter. “I know this feels abrupt. It is abrupt. But, Jane, it’s what I want.”

  “Have you even thought this through?”

  I laugh. “It’s me, Jane. I’m still thinking it through.”

  Silence.

  “It’s not like I’m selling my cabin,” I offer. “I’m not even taking that much. And we’ll be back. Often. I’m sure he’ll be needed in Austin, and when he is, I’ll come with him.

  More silence.

  “Jane, say something.”

  “So you’re not actually moving. You’re just going for a really long visit, and then he’ll visit you.”

  Why didn’t I think of that? “Exactly.”

  The call goes silent once again, and this time I think she may have hung up on me, until she sighs and says, “Okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it?”

  “You just sprang this on me, Frankie. You’re going to have to give me a little time to process it. You’re leaving.”

  I let out a sigh of my own. “Okay.”

  I hear the gravel driveway crunch beneath Darian’s tires as he rolls to a stop outside my kitchen window. I quickly dry my eyes. It’s been nearly an hour since I ended my call with Jane and I’ve done nothing but pace back and forth across the linoleum. I’m breaking my best friend’s heart to save my own.

  My throat tightens as the door swings open. Darian steps inside with a few flattened boxes wedged under his arm, a white plastic bag twisted around his fingers, and a pizza box in his hands. He frowns as soon as he sees me.