Page 62 of Crow

I cling to her, awed that she could give words to everything I felt, with such exactness.

I nuzzle into her hair, burying my nose in the damp strands, tightening my arms around her, unable to speak past the lump in my throat, but I imagine that she knows that if I could, I’d tell her something grand, something just right, something not perfect but perfect for her, the same way she just told me.

Chapter 17

Tarynn

You can do the drive from Las Vegas to Seattle any number of ways. There are routes that are longer and more scenic, ones inland, or ones that trace along the coast. I looked at all the options yesterday, when we got the call from the vet that he wanted to keep the dog for another day, but she’d be ready to go by this morning. It meant that we had an extra day to buy ourselves a vehicle to get home.

Despite my protests about taking money from him, Crow sat through another few hours of poker and made enough to pay the vet’s bill, buy a decent car, and to cover my full tuition for cosmetology school.

I’m sitting here behind the wheel of a black Volvo station wagon that I still can’t believe is mine. I protested every which way I could think of, but Crow just shrugged and said that money meant almost nothing to him. He had more than enough accumulated already. It got to the point where he told me that if I didn’t take what he’d won at poker and use it, he’d walk right up to one of those sky bridges in Vegas and dump the whole boatload off.

I’m pretty sure doing something like that is illegal and could cause multiple accidents, which would get us into a lot of trouble, not to mention probably get us sued ten ways to Sunday or even thrown in jail.

We bought the car and then we spent our last night at the hotel, packed up, and picked up Connie.

I don’t know where Crow pulled that name from, but he said we couldn’t just call her dog.

She’s fast asleep in the huge nest we made her in the backseat. Before we got her, he bought a large flat dog bed and several pillows, which we have stuffed all around her so that she won’t get jostled. The vet gave her some pretty heavy painkillers before we picked her up, and twelve hours later, she’s still asleep.

Because he’s anxious to get Connie back somewhere she can adjust to healing and her new environment, Crow wanted to blast right through. Right through is still eighteen hours of driving. He took the first twelve while I napped on and off to be fresh for my shift. he tried to argue about being fine, but I wouldn’t let him.

It’s now nearly ten. Unlike some people, driving at night has never bothered me. I know that I’m probably missing a lot of the changing topography—the drive has been so unique and beautiful, with the country and scenery changing so drastically, but it is what it is.

It’s not right to ask Patti to give me infinite days off, and Crow has multiple jobs that he probably has to get back for.

Even if Connie wasn’t traveling with us, it’s not like we have endless time.

I stare through the darkened night, alert and attentive to the road. I’m driving in silence, with no music on. There’s a replacement deck in here, and I could program my phone in to listen to something, but I haven’t yet.

Crow has to be exhausted, but I know he’s still awake.

I think we both know that going back home means returning to reality. I’m afraid of losing this tentative connectionwith him. I don’t know what he’s feeling and I’m almost afraid to ask. How does one build a future with another person? Blending two lives so suddenly seems nearly impossible. If these past few days have been bricks, we don’t have nearly enough to build anything more than the start of one tiny wall.

But that’s not nothing.

That’s something.

I know from all the times I’ve helped my parents build houses in other countries, to know how they go together. Beam by beam, piece by piece, painstakingly, with time. But the one constant is that there are always plenty of people needed.

Right now, we’re very alone.

When my stomach starts to churn and cramp with nerves twenty minutes later, I know that I have to say something.

“I’ve never had a best friend. I’ve never had anyone who I’ve thought of as my safe space. Was there ever…” I sigh, the moment suspended between us, even while we hurtle forward. “Was there ever anyone for you?”

He doesn’t slant an odd look at me for choosing this topic seemingly out of nowhere. He doesn’t evade either, responding flatly while he looks straight ahead. “No. I got by in school because I hid who I was. I pretended to be normal. I even got good at it, but it’s so fucking exhausting.”

I swallow thickly. I can’t imagine having to do that. I hate that he grew up the way he did. I hate that he can’t find peace even now. “There’s not anyone at the club?”

“No. I’ve never even thought about telling them. The guys are fine. Some of them are even good people. I just neverwanted to let them know. It wasn’t their fault. They might have understood.” He bows his head, his misery is clear in his words. “It was me. Instead of making my peace with Raven, I was busy trying to lock him away and pretend that he didn’t exist.” A beat of painful silence passes. “No wonder he hates me.”

I grip the wheel too hard. “I don’t think he hates you.”

“Maybe. But he’s been pissed off for a long time. The more control I exerted, the more pissed he got, which only pressed me to try harder, which only made him angrier. The whole token vicious fucking cycle.”

I had a thought the night before last. Crow fell asleep before I did and I snuggled up next to him, I breathed him in and dreamed up a world where he and Raven could both thrive. I wasn’t going to say anything for a while yet, mostly because I feel that I don’t fully understand, and who am I to lecture him about anything, but does it have to be a lecture?

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