Flock (The Ravenhood)

“You are one lucky bitch.” I palm my stomach, admiring the snug fit of the dress I bought specifically for tonight. I spent half of another shitty paycheck just to see that shop owner, Tessa, light up. It was a reward in itself. It’s a dangling two-piece, a halter that shows a little side boob, along with a flowing black skirt. It’s a little risqué, and I decide Dominic will love it. The occasion is special. It’s for our first date.

A real date.

His idea.

If that isn’t evidence of progression, I don’t know what is. I try not to question anymore the why of the three of us.

For the life of me, I can’t understand why these two gorgeous guys with so much to offer have settled on me. It can’t be just the sex, because I’ve seen for myself just how capable they are of getting any woman within a five-mile radius. I want to believe that their interest is genuine, that they truly do respect me and are okay with this arrangement because I can’t imagine having to choose between them. I get no grief in return for this tradeoff, absolutely none.

My rainy days with Dominic are scarce because he stays so busy with running the garage and with hood business, sometimes I have to wait days just to lay eyes on him. That’s why tonight is so special, and I’m soaking up every minute because there’s an inkling inside of me that reminds me one day this will all end—whether it be the day that I leave Triple Falls for college or whether they leave me for someone else.

I rarely let my mind go there because just the thought of it ruins me.

My dreams are filled with them, riddled with them every night. Lately, I’ve been brushing up on my French with a new app, and Dominic sometimes entertains me when we’re together, though he’s rusty himself, the moody Frenchman.

But he does, they both do, they indulge me, and they’ve allowed me this time to be selfish, and it’s been the best summer of my life.

So tonight, I’m going to try like hell to live in the now.

The unmistakable sound of his Camaro tearing down the drive has me smiling as I survey my appearance one last time. Today had been especially hot, but I left my hair down because he likes it this way, constantly pulling the hair ties out when I have it up and throwing them in the trash. He isn’t a fan of makeup either, because he also tosses it when I leave it in his bathroom.

The motherfucker.

But there’s so much I love about Dominic. About the way he communicates with me without saying a word.

I can read him more easily now, gauge his moods, his dislikes, his preferences. Outside the bedroom, you wouldn’t know we are together. Inside the bedroom, he doesn’t go more than minutes without his hands and lips on me.

I love it.

Some part of me thinks I should be offended by his refusal to acknowledge us publicly. Still, another part of me knows it’s just his way, and that he’s probably protecting me from the small-town gossips because Sean and I have been seen quite often around town in a lip lock.

And I am guilty. But I do things often, that I hope show Dominic I’m just as devoted to him.

My time, heart, and attention are distributed as equally as I can spare them, and somehow against the laws of monogamy and human nature, we work. We’re working, and I’m starting to believe them.

There’s no jealousy, no bickering, and no fighting unless the fight is mine. I’ve tried daily for the past few weeks to accept that my heart is split and fully capable of loving both of them, but I don’t see this arrangement as fair to either.

So for now, I’ll take what I can get.

Grabbing my purse, I haul ass down the stairs, leaving my cell phone behind.

I slip outside and smile when Dominic pulls up, his Camaro newly waxed and gleaming.

I slip in and fight the urge to kiss him.

“Hey,” I say, and he takes off. We ride for a few minutes in silence, my fingers aching to touch him. He smirks, keeping his eyes ahead, and I know he knows what I’m thinking.

I roll my eyes. “Asshole.”

“And here I put on a clean T-shirt just to be insulted.”

“We’re alone, you know,” I point out, knowing the minute we’re behind closed doors, he’ll be touching me, and I’ll be begging him not to stop.

“I’m driving. Show some restraint, woman. And we’re never alone.”

I glance around the cabin. “You got some imaginary friend in here?”

“Cecelia.” His face goes blank, and I wait for what seems like an eternity until he speaks. “We’ll be alone later.” It’s as close to a promise as I’m going to get and I decide it’s enough.

“I can keep my hands to myself, you know.”

“Sure you can.”

Smug bastard.

Lips twitching, he shifts, his muscular forearm bulging due to the firm grip he has on the wheel.

“When are you going to let me drive?”

“Easy, never.”

“Seriously?”

“Only one other person has a key to this car, and it won’t ever be used.”

“You know I’ll be searching Sean’s room from top to bottom, right?”

His chest bounces. “Good luck with that.”

“I will drive this car someday, Dominic. Bet on it.”

He takes me to Asheville, where we dine on an outdoor patio. The city is nestled in the heart of the Blue Ridge, but it’s far more populated than Triple Falls and likely the reason why we drove forty minutes out of our way. But dinner is delicious, and being with him in this capacity is equally as intoxicating. I love being on the opposite side of the table, studying his face, his dark lashes as he scans the menu before ordering for us both. He opens my doors, tips ridiculously, and smiles—really smiles—more than once. The man is no stranger to proper date etiquette, nor is he a stranger to the ways of a gentleman, which only makes me question his initial reception of me. When we met, he’d acted like an obnoxious pig to the extreme.

On the drive home, he lifts my skirt and exposes my panties, slapping my hand away when I try to push it back down. He gets satisfaction in knowing he can glance over and see me vulnerable, and though I feign annoyance, I love every minute of it. He spends the drive describing how he wants to touch me, where he wants to lick, and details exactly what he is going to do to make me come as I sit there listening, rapt, losing my mind, and growing wetter by the second. By the time he parks, I am close to orgasm. The minute he cuts the engine, I fly at him, and he welcomes me, a groan leaving his throat, letting me know he is just as needy for me.

And he is because he fucks me twice before he rolls a joint while I lay back in the seat, my head resting on the door, in nothing but my panties. From my vantage point I’m able to admire his profile, his physique, him. Music drifts from his speakers as I lift my bare foot and playfully massage his side with my toes as he readies the blunt paper.

“What is this?”

“David Bowie. Shhh,” he releases the weed into the paper and reaches for his dash to turn it up. “The first minute and a half of this song is money. Listen.”

And I do, deciding it’s definitely one for us to dissect and repeat. It’s one of our things now. He plays DJ, and we talk about the music. I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t a vigilante/criminal/mechanic, he would have done something in that arena.

“I love it.”

He flashes me a rare, full smile. “I knew you would.”

A flutter zigzags across my chest. He’s trying, for me. “Are you ever going to tell me why you didn’t like me at first?”

“Who says I like you now?”

I press into his side with my toes and earn a stink eye when some weed falls from his lap.

“If I say I like you, do I have to take you to prom?”

“I’m not that young.”

“You’re a baby.”

“You aren’t that much older.” He’s just had his twenty-sixth birthday, and I woke him up in a way I hope he’ll never forget.

“I’m old enough to know better.”

“Yet, you got really stupid with me.”

“Yeah,” he says thoughtfully, “I did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t take offense,” he cuts in, apparently rethinking his word choice.

“Color me offended,” I dig my toes in, hoping it’s painful.

“Drama,” he chuckles, licking the blunt and sealing it. “Don’t be such a girl.”

“Sorry, I’ve been missing you.”

He frowns, and I laugh because I know it’s not the fact that he doesn’t want me saying those things, it’s that he feels like an asshole when he’s not in the mood to return the sentiment, and that mood comes more rarely than his smiles. There’s so much about him I can anticipate now, and I pride myself in getting close enough to understand him. Sean tried to tell me there was far more to him, but I didn’t truly recognize it until I got close enough to see, to experience it, for myself.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your parents?”

I immediately regret my question because his eyes dim, his focus shifting past his windshield into the woods. We’re at the meetup spot, where he takes me often to work on his laptop when he wants to get out of the house before storms hit. I now consider it more our spot, though technically Tyler owns it. He bought it before joining the Marines.

“They died in an accident.”

“How old were you?”

“Almost six.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Joint in his lips, he tilts his head and lights it, his reply coming out on an exhale.

“Yeah, me too.” The now-familiar smell is a comfort as it clouds around me.

“I don’t remember a lot, images here and there of a smile. Of her cleaning up my knee after a bad bike ride, the color of her hair, like mine. The way she laughed hysterically. Little things, small pieces of her I keep locked up. But mostly, I remember the music she listened to because she played it all the time.” He swallows, his confession taking me by surprise.

“What we listen to? This is all her tastes?”

He nods. “Most of it, yeah.” He turns to me, his eyes shimmering with a rare vulnerability. “When I listen to it, I feel like I know her. The older I get, the better I understand the lyrics and understand her, you know what I mean?”

My heart melts with his confession, and I nod, wanting so much to pull him to me, but now’s not the time.

“And your father?”

He grimaces. “The same. A flash here and there.” He chuckles. “He had red hair.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, his father was Scottish, that’s where my namesake comes from, and his mother was French, so he was a half Scottish, half French mutt, raised in France.”

“You must not look a thing like him.”

“I don’t.”

“How did they meet?”

He takes another tug on the joint and exhales before passing it to me. “Different story for a different day.”

I don’t press my luck and inhale deep. “Do you have pictures of them?”

“A few, but they died before the digital revolution.” He pulls a piece of loose weed from his tongue. “Tatie has some photos locked away in her attic somewhere, but we weren’t much for family photos anyway.”

“Why is that? Because of The Ravenhood?”

He grins over at me, his brow lifting, an incredulous laugh in his question. “The Ravenhood?”

I shrug. “I mean, essentially that’s what you are. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought of it that way. Tyler is nicknamed the Friar.”

“It’s a lot less storybook to me.”

“Because you’re living it.”

“Get dressed. Let’s finish smoking this up top.”

“Up top? Something wrong with your current view?” I glance down and back.

“Yeah,” his eyes slide down my body with clear intent. “I’m out of condoms.”

“Isn’t going topless zee French way?”

His returning look is laced with a hint of possession and has me smiling as I pull on my dress.

Blissed out, I rest in the crook of Dominic’s arm atop his hood as we gaze up at the night sky. I sink into the feel of him, his crisp, sea scent filling my nose. I’m fully lit inside and out with the buzz of the joint we smoked and the feel of his lips, his skin.

Smiling, I turn to him just as he glances down at me, his eyes filled with mirth.

“What?”

“Who the hell are you, and what have you done with my motherfucker?”

He grazes his hand over my nipple before tweaking it painfully. I screech and then burst into laughter.

“There you are.” I settle back in and we bask in the breeze. I swear if there’s a heaven, it’s here with him. “Dom?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want, you know, for the future?”

He’s silent for long seconds, and I assume he won’t answer.

“It’s not a stupid question.”

Another beat of silence.

“Nothing.”

I sigh. “I guess it’s a good thing you won’t be disappointed.”

His chest bounces. “Am I supposed to ask you what you want now?”

“Not if you don’t care.”

“I’m not future centered. Plans don’t make the man.”

“I know. I know. Live in the now, take each day as it comes. I get it, but isn’t there something you want?”

“No, but it’s obvious there’s something you do.”

More. More of him. More of Sean. More of this endless summer. But I keep my hopes to myself. Because I’m sure this can’t go on forever. That fear is starting to eat at me more and more. And aside from their ambitions, I do have my own and know one day I’ll demand more for myself. One day, maybe, I’ll choose a life or a path that neither will be able to go on with me. The thought of losing either of them, of that sort of progression is crippling. I’ve never been this happy. Not ever. My only saving grace is I’m not leaving Triple Falls anytime soon.

“What?” He gently nudges me from where he rests.

“I don’t like putting a voice to my fears. Because then, I can only expect them to come true.”

“That’s bleak.”

“It’s better than not wanting anything in the future.”

“I already know what happens,” he whispers with surety.

“What do you mean? You can predict the future?”

“I can predict mine because I make shit happen.”

“What is it?”

“Whatever I decide.”

I lift from him, and he lets me. “Just for once, can you give me a straight answer?”

“What’s the question?”

I switch gears. “Do you ever get jealous?”

He keeps my eyes, his voice even. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because he can give you the things I can’t.”

“I’m not complaining, please don’t think that. But why can’t you?”

“Because I’m not like him. I’m a lot simpler.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.”

I trace the line of his jaw. “You are anything but simple.”

“My needs are. I don’t want things like other people.”

“Why? Why train yourself for such simplicity when you are worth so much…” I dig in and let myself reveal what I’m feeling. “You are so much more than what you let people see, than what you give yourself credit for.”

“That’s the point.”

“Why won’t you let people know you?”

“You know me.”

I melt into that statement, the tone giving me life, his words giving me life. “And I’m lucky.”

“You are anything but,” he mutters dryly.

“Please just stop that…you don’t have low self-esteem. What’s with this glib shit?”

“There is so much you don’t know.”

“I want to, Dom. I want to know all sides of you.”

“You don’t, Cecelia, you think you do, but you don’t.”

“You think I won’t care for you like I do?”

“Things will change.”

“I don’t care,” I place my hands on his chest. “I want in. Please let me in.”

He remains quiet and I blow out a frustrated breath. Lately, I’m becoming more and more frustrated with the militant restraint they show, but it’s not changing. It’s the price I have to pay to be with them both, so I backpedal.

“Okay, okay.” I roll back and let my head rest on his windshield and silently berate myself for pushing so hard. “Sorry.” I lift and press a kiss to his jaw. “It’s hard being with you. It’s just hard sometimes.”

I reclaim my place back in his hold and run my hand underneath his shirt palming his chest, he grips my bare shoulder, pulling me tighter to him.

“You are in.”

Every word hits the innermost part of me. Emotions surface as I crane my neck to look up at him. He places a soft kiss to my lips, deepening it to the point he’s pressing those words into me.

When he pulls away, I feel everything at once. I know I’m in love with him. I just don’t know how much of him I know.

My computer geek/keyboard warrior, my book nerd who lives like a peasant despite his place in the ranks. A silent hero with a flip switch temper. A passionate lover, who reserves his subtle kindness, a warmth close to imperceptible unless you get close enough to see it. Yet with him I can see it, I can feel it, in his touch, in his eyes, inside him dwells a gentle soul capable of much more than he lets on. I’m so greedy for him that I want him to have everything. I want him to embrace it. I want to see him showered with the love he deserves. And selfishly, I want to be the only one ever to do it.

I open my mouth to do just that when he covers it.

“Don’t waste good words on me.”

He muffles my objection.

“It’s okay, Cecelia. I’m as close to happy as a man like me deserves.”

It’s his secrets that keep him humble, keep him from letting himself want anything more than what he has. Only a good man would question whether or not he deserves anything more. A part of me breaks at the idea he thinks he deserves nothing more from his future.

“Have you hurt people?”

Silence. But it’s not a stupid question. It’s just a question he won’t answer. It’s probable he’s used the gun in his car and will do it again. He’s a man with too many secrets and no one to share them with.

“Do I make you happy? Even a little?”

I can’t help my smile at his silence before he kisses me breathless.

Dominic pulls up to the garage and I grin when I see Sean’s Nova. I rush through the lobby, stopping short when I see the look on his face. He meets Dominic’s eyes behind me, his expression grave before he gives me his attention, a quick flash of teeth when I reach him.

“You’ve been up to no good?”

“Always.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Where is everyone?” I ask, looking around the garage. Sean ignores my question and runs his fingers through my hair.

“Cecelia, I’m going to take you home, okay?”

I turn to see Dominic’s eyes have gone cold; his jaw set in a firm line.

“But—”

“Not tonight, okay?” Sean says softly. “Me and Dom have to talk.”

I know asking what’s wrong is pointless, but the tension rolling off him has me on high alert.

“Are you…safe?”

He runs his finger along my nose and peers down at me with pure adoration.

“Safety is an illusion, baby.”

“God, Sean, just for once, can you lie to me?”

“I hate the ground you walk on.” He deadpans before glancing over my shoulder at Dominic who speaks up behind me.

“When?”

“Now.”

“Fuck,” he says, his eyes trail over me and then back to Sean. “Get her home.”

Sean nods and grips my hand, and I shake my head walking toward Dominic. Just once, I hope he’ll make an exception and let his temper take a backseat, and he does. I rise up on my toes as he pulls me to him and kisses me for long seconds, practically lifting me off my feet with the sweep of his tongue. When he pulls away, I’m dazed.

“You gotta go, baby.” The term of endearment from his lips instills dread into me. I glance back at Sean as emotions take over and I see it, the worry I’ve gotten glimpses of since the moment we met.

They’re scared.

It’s written in the rigidity of their posture as well as their expressions.

“It’s okay,” Sean says softly, pulling me to him, uncertainty in his tone. “But we have to go, Pup. Right now.”

“Okay,” we move past Dominic, and our fingers brush. He doesn’t look back. He just stands in the middle of the garage, his eyes cast down, and I watch him just seconds before he erupts, the jarring sound of metal hitting the bay doors as Sean rips me from the building and pulls me into the car.

All the color drains from my face as Sean ushers me inside.

“I don’t care, do you hear me, I don’t care what it is, give me something.”

He tears out of the parking lot and I wait, knowing he can feel the anxiety pouring from me.

“Sean, plea—”

“Somebody couldn’t keep a secret.”