The Crow Brothers: JET - TULSA - RIVERS - RIDGE

by Scott, S. L.

  When he doesn’t say anything, I look up to find his eyes searching mine. Taking me by the wrists, he lowers them to my side. “I had fun, friend.”

  “Friend,” I repeat more for myself.

  Walking backward toward the elevator, he smirks. “Good night, sunshine.”

  I lean against the doorframe and give him a little wave as I watch him walk away. It’s a really great walk and an even better ass, but my gaze drifts north to those broad shoulders while his filthy sexy words fill my head. “How wet you were when I fucked you with my fingers. How your body clenched around me while urging me for more. How your eyes closed and your mouth opened.”

  “Good lord, that man.” Shutting the door, I lock it and laugh as I lean against it. “I’m definitely going to need my toy tonight.”

  12

  Meadow

  I vaguely remember Dave telling me he didn’t want me to regret anything we do together.

  I’m filled with regret this morning.

  Mostly, I regret how much I drank. Other than that, I’m pretty good with how things turned out.

  Ow. Thinking hurts my brain. Rubbing my temple, I get out of bed, take two ibuprofen, and down them with some Gatorade. Sitting at my desk, I check my email while wearing my sunglasses. The screen is blinding me, and it’s almost as dim as it can go.

  The wedding invitation draws my eyes, and I run my finger over one of the flowers. Stella and Rivers set the standard for true love. When I’m around them, a little light shines inside me, exposing the hope that still exists in the dark.

  I can talk a good game and even convince myself that love is something we were fed through fables when we were younger. But sometimes if you catch me at the right moment, usually after a drink or three, I still believe.

  Dave caught me on the right night and in the perfect frame of mind to see him in a new light. Last night was fun and easy. Unexpected.

  Slow.

  Steady.

  Perfect.

  Things have changed so much in the past eight months. At least for me. But it took distancing myself from my comfort, Dave included, to really see if I could survive on my own. I didn’t just survive. I thrived.

  Now that I’m back in Austin, easing into my old routine, I’m not sure if this life fits who I am anymore. I’ve had my eyes opened. Seen a new world. Made new friends.

  I couldn’t have predicted anything on that road trip I took right before. It seemed easy—Rivers wanted his 4Runner in LA. Dave and I would drive it from Austin.

  With each mile we covered, our relationship seemed to intensify. We’d been together maybe a dozen times total—free and easy. No expectations. Heck, I didn’t even have to wear makeup around him. He told me he liked me how I was. Everything was going so well. But the energy between us was changing.

  “Are you asleep?” I ask, careful to whisper in case he is.

  “Kind of. Kind of not.”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “The way your heartbeats have synced with mine and your breathing warms my chest.” He pulls me closer as if we can possibly get any closer than two naked bodies squeezed in the backseat of this 4Runner. “Coyotes are howling in the distance.”

  “Will they come near the SUV?”

  “They shouldn’t. We’re safe if they do. The window is only cracked open enough to let some cool air in.”

  Sweat has left a fine sheen across our bodies from the heat between us and from making love. I used to think we were just rolling around in the hay, having a good time, but I don’t anymore. Every time he looks my way, his hazel eyes shine with his desires, the same ones that used to be just sexual. They’re not as of late.

  I can’t blame him. I feel it too—a pull so strong that I worry I’m already too far-gone. I’ve dated guys before. Another had burned me so badly that I felt as though my heart had charred since then.

  I didn’t expect it to start thrumming again. It became a regular occurrence that I could count on. A low, dull knock showing up every time Dave did, gathering strength and insisting I notice each time we kissed, touched, or did more.

  A foolish heart won’t protect me, won’t feed me, or take care of me. A foolish heart is what got me hurt in the past. But in Dave’s arms, it feels like the rest of the world and the problems I have are distant sounds in the wind, a lot like the howling.

  Will I be able to keep them at bay until LA?

  I’m leaving. That means leaving these feelings behind for the time being. Without knowing how deep Dave and I had fallen into our own secret routine, I was told to go to London and experience life to its fullest. Breathe in the cool wind. Eat crumpets and drink tea.

  Expand my life.

  I don’t know if I will. The future is always so unpredictable, but it’s best for me if I try. And he’s right. Our hearts are in sync. Unfortunately, as to where we are in life at the moment? That’s where I’m unsure.

  I snuggle against him, wrapping my arms around him tighter, though I know it’s impossible. Like him, I’m trying to hold on to something I can’t.

  Come sunrise, we’ll return to our lives, letting our heads keep things casual as my heart loses its beat once again and I head to England.

  He whispers, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re cold.”

  Reaching over, he pulls his hoodie from the front seat and wraps it over me. I kiss his chest and then close my eyes, hoping to get some rest while keeping my fears at bay.

  “If you could have one wish, what would it be?” he asks.

  “Another night just like this.”

  He kisses my head, and I finally give in to sleep.

  The weight of the waking hours finally caught up to him. Hours later, I got what I need, but now I’m awake and not wanting to miss anything. I feel dirty from the journey, and the sex, but he feels so good that I don’t care. I’ve never felt better, sexier, more beautiful than when I’m with him. But that’s not what can carry me in the future.

  Only I can do that—only my convictions, determination, and dreams will take me where I should be.

  I maneuver until I wedge my way through the center of the front seats. There’s no way to move without disturbing him. He’s restless, but soon, he settles again. I slip on my clothes and pop the door open as quietly as I can to sneak out.

  Before the breathtaking sun that’s rising, I stand at the crossroads of my youth and my future. Am I being selfish?

  What would Stella say if she knew the full truth about me and Dave? What if I told her he looks at me as though I hung the moon, but I fear for the fall ahead? The one my parents warned me about?

  “Nothing good lasts,” my dad said just before taking the lid off a McDonald’s soda and pouring three shots of vodka into it. “Don’t go getting knocked up or shackled down to someone who tells you love will get you through.” He stabs the straw in the air toward me. “It won’t. I loved that woman more than my own life and look where that got me.” That woman, my mother.

  I stopped asking for rides to school after that because at fifteen, I’d learned that vodka had no smell. Years later, I realized why that mattered.

  The pop of the door in the distance catches my attention, and I turn back to see him naked, looking like a Greek god.

  We’ve never lacked chemistry. We may not have had sex the first night we met, but we did shortly after. I’ve never had a regret when it came to him. I get to see what the world doesn’t. I get Dave, and he’s confident and gentle when it comes to me. Sexy with a heart any woman would be lucky to own. He’s funny, wicked, and someone so easy to be around. Genuine. The world gets Ridge, the charismatic, brilliant musician with the come-hither smile. Mind you, I get that smile too, and it works . . . every dang time.

  With our unfinished conversation from last night hanging in the air, I head back, knowing we need to talk.

  I’ve got to get my personal life out of my head.

  School.

  Classe
s.

  Graduation.

  That’s all that matters.

  Focus, Meadow. Focus.

  My degree is all that matters. Hoping to drown out that ping in my ears, my heart’s not-so-subtle reminder to listen to her, I grab the remote and click on the TV, settling on a morning show while I get dressed.

  It’s strange how I can be thrust right back into my old life and fall in line. Then along comes Dave as if he never left. That both heals and hurts my heart. Conflicted, I feel my head is still elsewhere. But as soon as that first text dings, I’m smiling. Dave: What was that movie about anyway?

  Laughing too hard to keep walking, I stop just on the perimeter of campus to type: It was a docu-indie via a kid from Minnesota who tracks the mating habits of cockatiels in Brazil.

  Dave: Wow! You got all that from the forty minutes we watched it?

  Me: No. I just copied and pasted the summary I found online. Forty minutes? You got further than me.

  Dave: What’s a docu-indie?

  Me: Half true. Half fake, I guess.

  Dave: I feel really lame asking these questions. Stay in school, kids. Question: Why was there a guy dressed as a T-Rex?

  Me: He was the star.

  Dave: The actor or the T-Rex?

  Me: I have no idea. Should we have stayed? Should we go back and watch it?

  Dave: No. We made the right decision. How are you feeling today?

  Moving to the side of a set of steps, I sit on a low wall. Me: Like crap. You?

  Dave: Not too bad.

  Me: Braggy pants.

  Dave: Speaking of pants, I leave late tonight. Hoping to stop by before I go.

  Me: How do pants and you stopping by work together in this scenario?

  Dave: They don’t. How’s five?

  Perfect.

  Me: See you then.

  * * *

  I spend all dang day wishing the hours would tick away, but now that it’s five till, I’m nervous. Why am I nervous? He only wants to hang out like last night until he has to catch his flight. I’ll take the flattery that I’m more fun than hanging out at an airport gate.

  At five on the dot, there’s a rap on the door. I recognize the rhythm as Dave breaks into a Crow Bro band drum solo on the other side of it, eliciting another smile I can’t hide when I swing it open.

  Huh? “Dave?” He steps from around the corner and holds out a bouquet . . . of Ding Dongs.

  I swoon. “Thank you. This might be one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And you have perfect timing. I’m starving.” Taking the bouquet and hurrying back to the kitchen to rip one off the stick, I devour half of it in one bite.

  When he doesn’t say anything, I turn back, but my mouth is too full to speak, so I wave him in. Guess he was waiting for an engraved invitation. We are way past that.

  With a wolfish grin, he comes in and shuts the door. “You always did have a thing for shoving Ding Dongs in your mouth.” Standing right next to me, he adds, “You should slow down and learn how to swallow.”

  So bad. So naughty. Sexy. Mmm. Stop, Meadow. “You’re a funny guy.” I take the other half and shove it in his mouth when he starts laughing. The laughter stops, but something else comes over him, something indecipherable. “What?” I manage to ask after taking his pervy advice and swallowing.

  “Nothing.” His eyes close tight for a second to rid his mind of whatever’s on it, but the grin is still just below the surface wanting to come out. Touching my cheek, he gently runs his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “You have chocolate on you.”

  For a quick second, images of him licking it off flash through my head. The beat of my heart kicks up, and my breathing slows. I dip the tip of my tongue out to lick to clean it but meet his thumb instead.

  My lower body tightens on contact; all those nights in London touching myself to the memory of one night in the desert rush back. His pupils widen, watching me as I run my tongue over his skin once more.

  Friends.

  Stupid F-word.

  “Um,” I start, trying to figure out what to say as I turn back to the counter. He doesn’t move, his heat emanating as his presence shadows me from behind. I scratch the back of my head. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Testing boundaries will only result in them being crossed.”

  Would it be so bad if he touched me again?

  Would it be such a sin if we kissed?

  Would it be so wrong?

  The only rational thing that finds its way to the forefront of my hazy thoughts makes me doubt the authenticity of what’s happening—Am I lonely or just missing intimacy? “Why did we stop seeing each other again?” Please remind me because I can’t seem to remember.

  “School. Uncomplicated. Nothing serious.” Each answer is firm in tone, methodical in delivery. I’m caged in, his hands resting on the island in front of me. The pressure of his muscular body pressed to the back of me. “We were combustible. That’s why we stopped seeing each other. It was only a matter of time. You got out while you still could.”

  “I wasn’t trying to get away from you. I was trying to find me.”

  “Did you find yourself? In England? In LA? Back here in Austin? Tell me you found the person you were searching for.”

  “I thought I had, but now . . .”

  “Then what’s changed?”

  This time, I’m not making drunk admissions. This time, I want him to know. “Seeing you again.”

  My hair is brought to one side and pushed forward over my shoulder. “You never had to change for me.”

  “How about now?” I dare to ask as his forehead rests on my shoulder.

  “I still like you just the way you are.” That’s the problem. Nothing changed for me either.

  Getting a handle on my senses, I bend and slip out of his hold. I move across the room, needing the space to think more clearly. “We didn’t spend time together. We slept together.”

  “I don’t remember much sleeping.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Live music. Standing on Congress watching the bats. Hiking. Grocery stores. Movies. We did other things together. Normal, everyday things. And yes, we had a lot of great sex.”

  “All I remember is the sex, and although I will give you that it was great, it’s not all that matters in a real relationship.”

  “We were real. Just because we didn’t label it doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

  “I can’t think clearly around you.”

  “Why? And why does it worry you?”

  “Because I don’t want to lose me.” Because it would be easy to toss my future aside to be whatever you wanted.

  “You don’t have to. You’re someone I want more of, all the fucking ti—”

  “I’m not who I need to be when I’m with you.” I hide so much inside, burying it beneath the surface, but even I know those words are all wrong.

  “Who are you, Meadow? Tell me.”

  My sister’s words coming back again.

  “I have my own dreams and goals. I proved I could stand on my own.” My tone sours even though I didn’t want it to. “I liked who I was when I was in London.”

  “You liked being without me.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “We may not have been fucking others, but we weren’t a couple.”

  Crossing the room in three large strides, he stops when he’s next to me. Disappointment knits into his brow and reflects in his eyes as he looks into mine. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart.”

  The door is opened, but I remain standing there, defiant to protect my needs and my heart.

  It closes, and he’s gone. And for someone who wanted the silence, wanted the quiet, his departure sounds so loud. Damn it. How did I botch that up so quickly?

  13

  Ridge

  Meadow Soleil Fellowes has to be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.

  Intelligent.

  Funny.

  Quirky.

  A stunning mess of emotions.


  But stubborn as fuck.

  I still can’t figure out why she’s so stuck on this friends thing. At first, I agreed with her. She had been gone, and during that time, I wondered how much we really knew each other prior to her leaving anyway.

  I knew her well enough to want more with her. But when I thought about what more meant to me, was it getting to know her more or take it to the next level more?

  Beating around the bush was not something I did. I usually just hack right through it to get what I want, but Meadow’s different. So as much as I want to kid myself that I didn’t know exactly what I wanted when we talked in the desert, I did. I wanted a life. I wanted a life with her instead of being teased with the pieces that our limited time together doled out.

  She didn’t feel the same. Or if she did, she was stronger than I was.

  Or was she?

  I watch Meadow standing at the edge of the gas station in this one-light town. Something’s on her mind, a storm of emotions brewing inside her in such contradiction to how I know her to be.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  She turns on the fifth step every time. Repeat. Pacing relentlessly.

  The carefree smile she used to wear is gone, lost somewhere just on the other side of New Mexico.

  She’s unsettled, so when the gas starts filling the tank, I join her, hiking a foot up on an old, blown-out tire. While she stares across the street at a dilapidated building that once housed used furniture by the faded sign above it, she says, “I feel lost.”

  “We’re on the right track. I just checked the route a few minutes ago.”

  A soft smile graces her lips when she turns to me. “I’m scared of leaving. I’m scared of going. I feel lost in between.”

  “Why are you scared to leave?”

  Her arms slowly uncross, and a hand finds mine, her fingers weaving between my fingers. The hold is firm; though not tight, it’s tighter than usual for the normally carefree spirit. “I like what’s happening.” She licks her lips and the sound of the light changing from red to green draws our attention back to the street. “Between us, Dave. I like this. I like you.”