the mystery, the anticipation, the connection, and the sex. God, the sex.
I’ve given myself enough time to grieve. If my heart would just follow my head, I’d be so much better off. I run my fingers across my untouched lips and decide to opt for a morning shower to scrub off my makeup. Tossing the throw pillows off my comforter, I move to settle in with a new book and freeze when I see the metal pendant waiting on my pillow.
Wrapping my fingers around it, I bring it eye-level, disbelieving of the weight of it and what it means before shooting off my mattress. My heart rockets into motion as I scan my room.
“Sean? Dominic?”
I walk into the bathroom. Empty.
The balcony. Empty.
Desperately, I search the house only to find all the doors are locked.
Not that that could stop them, it never has. The proof lays in my hand.
Hopes soaring, I secure the clasp around my neck and dash toward the back door. Gathering my rain boots from the hall tree, I shove them on and grab the pocket flashlight from my slicker. Seconds later, I scan the courtyard with the weak beam.
“Sean? Dominic?”
Nothing.
I make a beeline for the woods, past the football field of newly cropped grass, the warm metal on my neck giving me the first inkling of hope amongst the wreckage. I’m nearing a sprint by the time I reach the small hill leading up into the trees and the clearing.
The sight that greets me there takes my breath away. Tall grasses sway before me littered with yellow-green light from hundreds of fireflies. They float from the brush into the thick branches, glittering like diamonds high above before disappearing in the beam of the full moon.
“Sean?” I search every corner of the clearing, scanning every shadow in the trees with the flashlight. “Dominic?” I call out softly, in prayer that one or both is waiting for me. “I’m here,” I announce, searching the dark forest for any sign of life, the light in my hand doing little to aid me. “I’m here,” I say, fingering the cut of the necklace.
“I’m here,” I repeat in vain, to no one.
There’s no one here but me.
Utterly confused, I turn in dizzying circles, searching, hoping, praying for any sign of life, and come up empty.
All the hope I felt just minutes before scatters on the wind, rustling through the tall, shimmering pines above me. But I don’t dwell in the ache. Instead, I palm my chest and watch the symphony of light playing both above and at my booted feet, their melody soundless, but captivating. Entranced by the moon and light show, I thumb the raven’s wing between my thumb and forefinger.
One or both has claimed me as their own.
Someone put the necklace on my pillow.
I call out for them once more.
“Sean? Dominic?” The air seems to still around me as an inkling of a presence hits, hard. I go ramrod straight when a deep voice laced with French brogue sounds from feet away.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
He emerges from the shadows of the thick cluster of trees to my left. I back away, clicking on my flashlight and aiming the beam at him.
“What do you want?”
“Want? From you, nothing,” disdain dripping from his tone as he comes into full view.
With the help of my pocket light, I can see his face clearly, not a single shadow clouding the smooth planes, strong nose, or the angular cut of his jaw. Too bad I hate him, or I could appreciate the beauty of his mask. I click off my light, willing the shadows to swallow him, but even in the darkness, he shimmers in masculine beauty under the brilliant moon and amongst the fairy-like bugs that surround us. He’s dressed much like he was when I met him, save the jacket and skinny black tie. He looks completely out of place in a button-down, slacks, and polished shoes.
“What are you doing here? Dressed like that?”
“I could ask you the same.”
I’m still dressed for my date, save for my polka-dotted rain boots, in full makeup and hair. Equally as overdressed for a midnight stroll in the woods. “I live here.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Semantics. And these aren’t your stomping grounds anymore.”
“I’ll stomp anywhere I fucking want.” His eyes are filled with the same flaming cruelty I remember from our run-in last year. His voice just as thick with condescension and grudge. And as easy as it would be to walk away, I want him to know that