But it’s gone a heartbeat later, lost in Damon’s terse “Goodbye,” that echoes around the corner, in reality intruding on this moment.
When she tugs at my hold, I immediately let her go.
Never do I want to see fear in those gorgeous eyes when she looks at me.
“Goodnight, Colt,” she murmurs.
“Night, Kylie,” I murmur back, watching as she starts down the hall, soaking up the sight of her face when she glances back over her shoulder at me.
Because there’s warmth there.
And hope.
And maybe, just fucking maybe, the barest hint of the same need I feel when I look at her.
And maybe that need is why I slip out into the parking lot, crouch near her car, and slowly let the air out of her tire again.
Or maybe I do it for a totally different reason altogether.
One that means…
Everything is going to change.
Five
Ky
I twist the knob and turn up the song, listening to John Fogerty sing about rain on a sunny day.
It’s beautiful and simple, promising me that the storm will pass and beauty will come in its place.
Though, I can’t help but think of the song’s original meaning.
Of an impending storm, of conflict battling with joy, of ties fracturing.
My body ping-pongs between those two sensations—hope and terror, fear to step out of the shadows and a yearning to move forward. To be free. To find solace in the rainbows that come after the storm.
I just don’t know what side I’ll land on.
Standing in the rain, chilled through to the bone.
Or the water on my skin unnoticed because the rainbows are all I see.
The sounds of the guitar fade and I get ready for my playlist to throw something else at me—it could be anything from more seventies rock to a popular ballad inundating my social feeds, talking about being the man I need. Or eighties hair bands. Or nineties alt rock. Or current R&B divas.
It has a good beat and lyrics I can get lost in?
I’m down.
Because I love music—the escape it gives me, the stories I can live without leaving my house, my car, my?—
“Oh no,” I whisper when the chime goes.
My eyes flick to the dash, to the little light that’s appeared on the screen.
A light I’ve seen far too often over the last months.
I turn the corner, pull into the turnout. Our turnout.
