by Nora Flite
The white flakes began their descent a few hours after we hit the highway.
“Dammit,” Deacon growled, staring up into the black sky. “I hope this is as bad as it gets.”
I didn't respond, my eyes looked out at the world but saw very little of it. Everything Colby had said was pounding inside my skull.
You should never have ended up with someone like that, Leah. No one should have to be so close to someone who would have the god damn audacity to harm another person. No matter who they are, or why.
Turning my head just enough to glimpse the hard shape of Deacon's jaw, I worked to make sense of the thick cloud in my brain. It hurt, it made everything sticky and swollen.
Colby is right, I shouldn't make the same mistake. I told myself before, I wouldn't. Not again.
But this isn't the same mistake.
It can't be.
Gingerly, I prodded at my memories, calling up things I had wished to never think about again. In the beginning, Owen had never seemed like someone who would hurt me.
Clearly, I had been wrong.
He was mean, though, and Deacon is never mean. But... Deacon can have a temper...
And he hurt his brother. I can't pretend that didn't happen.
Hurt him, and lied to me about it.
Deacon blinked, catching me staring at him. “Hey, what's up?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, pressing my temple to the icy glass. The vibration of the car rumbled through my bones.
Am I being naive?
The roads looked empty, shiny wet onyx that began to become frosted with the sticking snow. Deacon had the wipers on as fast as they could go, working overtime to keep up with the billows of white. They sounded like huge beetle wings, flapping over and over.
“This is getting pretty bad,” he whispered.
“Mn,” I said absently.
“Hey, Leah, what's up?” His eyes, hard green and gold, flicked onto me. Trying to read my expression, while also keeping us safe, they hurried to return to the road.
Shaking my head, I brushed my hair behind my ears. “I don't want to talk about it.”
“But there is something to talk about?”
“I—I don't know. Yes. Maybe.”
“Leah,” he implored me, “please talk to me, just tell me what's wrong.”
Squeezing my hands together, I pushed against the passenger window, like I might be able to warp through it. “I don't know how to.”
“So, you don't want to, or you don't know how?”
“Both!” I shouted, having trouble focusing in my anxiousness. “Both, Deacon. I... I'm not sure how to bring any of this up.”
“Any of what up?” Squeezing the wheel, he turned it a little hard, shaking the car. “Haven't we been over this before? Didn't you promise me you'd tell me what was on your mind?”
“I promised a lot of things,” I mumbled, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “I'm awful at promises, but everyone keeps asking me to make them...” Even myself, and I break those just as easily.
“Wait, who else have you been making promises to?”
Biting my lip, I shut my eyes tightly. Bethany's voice rang in my ears. Don't break his heart.
The wind outside pushed at the car, forcefully shoving it around on the road. Deacon gasped, controlling us, slowing down our speed.
Part of me knew he was focusing on driving safely in the growing storm. The rest of me was stuck, fighting to decide how to just broach the subject of his attack on Nicholas.
Just ask him, just ask him. Remember what Nicholas said, it wasn't a big deal. It really... it really has to not be a big deal.
Ask him!
“Deacon,” I whispered, every bit of breath shaking. “Tell me what really happened that night with your brother.”
His silence was damning.
“Did he tell you? He told you.” It was no longer a question. “Dammit. Leah, listen, what happened was just... it was just an accident.”
It was just an accident. Owen's voice, something I never, ever wanted in my head again. The plaintive way he had tried to defend himself, his actions, to me.
“No, no it wasn't. Deacon, don't try and act like you aren't responsible.”
“I know I'm responsible!” He shouted, making me jump. His raised voice, the hard edge that echoed through the car, it set my nerves on fire.
No no no no. This isn't happening. This is it, this is just like before. The number of times Owen had screamed at me while we were driving... making it so I couldn't even escape...
Turning, I stared outside again. Everything felt awful; internally in my thoughts, and outside with the tension between us.
Deacon breathed in, then released a long puff of air like a kettle. “Leah, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to yell. I'm just... what happened was stupid, and...”
He made a frustrated sound, then poked at the radio. “Never mind. Let's just calm down with some music. Bethany has CDs somewhere—ah,” he said, sliding a case free from the dashboard. “Here,” he declared, sounding triumphant. “You'll like this.”
The music trickled through the speakers, the familiar song seeping into my veins. It was a song that had held a clear meaning to me until recently.
Rain Flow. Bethany had the CD in her car. She'd said she didn't even really like the band, but she... she...
Covering my face, I shook with the first heavy sob. My body broke down, I didn't dream of trying to muffle my tears.
“I—Leah! Leah, what is it? What happened?”
He doesn't know, he has no idea. He doesn't get why this hurts.
Everything I feel for him, it's falling apart. It's such a mess, it's all a god damn mess.
Beside me, I sensed him letting go of the wheel, reaching for me as I quivered. “Leah! Leah, please, talk to me, I—”
Everything around us shifted, the SUV losing its grip on the road. Wild, bright lights flooded everything, making me look up in baffled shock.
At first, I didn't know what was happening. Not until I heard the shrill honk of a horn, saw the blizzard outside blinding us, tearing at the walls of the vehicle.
We're spinning, we're out of control!
A huge truck moved next to us, seeming to sit still in the night as we twirled. The front of it faced us, then the side, a row of wheels that wanted to draw us in. To eat us, chew our car into bits and spit us back into the night.
The ice on the road fought with our car, struggled to bring us under the body of the truck.
Deacon gripped the wheel, turning it one way, then the next. “Shit!” He yelled. In the orange flash of the truck's headlights, I caught the look of real fear on his face. The pale, blatant display of terror that came from knowing death was mere seconds away.
In the rear view mirror, I glimpsed my own expression miming his. We're going to die. After everything, after causing a fight that was so pointless, we're going to die.
I'll never get to tell him, now.
We're going to die before he knows that I love him.
I'm so stupid, so...
Deacon yanked us sideways, rubber screeching as we spun off the road. The fall was brief, making me momentarily weightless.
Then everything slammed together, throwing us one way, then the next. It was like being in a soda can, shaken up and released to the ether.
Oh no, oh no!
“Deacon!” I screamed, realizing we had rolled to a stop. It was dark, there were no lights around except for the greenish glow of the dashboard in the car. Through the radio, the low sound of Rain Flow continued to whimper.
Everything had happened so fast, the CD track hadn't even finished.
Staring over, my wide eyes fell on his slumped body. All fear, all adrenaline, it erased the doubts and insecurities I'd been battling with.
“Deacon!” I screamed again, unbuckling to reach him. Leaning over in the seat, I saw his forehead was resting on the wheel. His fingers held it in a death grip, white knuckled.
Crimson, fresh blo
od dripped down the side of his face, staining his jacket. “Deacon! Deacon, oh god, please! Deacon! Can you hear me?”
Gripping his shirt, I held him, shook him in my terror. Those beautiful eyes, eyes that had moved my heart and made me smile, made me moan, made me laugh... Those eyes opened, fluttered, seeing nothing.
“Please, please, Deacon,” I sobbed, ignoring the tears that stung me. I didn't know how hurt he was, but my mind roiled with the most awful of possibilities. “Deacon, please, don't die!”
Again, I shook him, and amazingly he seemed to wake slowly from a dream.
His head turned, fingers loosening on the wheel. There was no focus in his eyes, but I was sure he was finally seeing me.
Overwhelmed, I grabbed him harder. The swelling in my chest exploded; my cries plaintive, hoarse.
Flinching, he leaned away, grasping for the side of his head. “Ow, dammit, ow.” His fingers came away with blood, something he seemed honestly shocked by. “I'm bleeding?”
“You're alive!” I sobbed, wrapping my arms around him, pushing him into the seat. I heard him wince, but I ignored it in my bundle of emotions. “Oh god, Deacon, you're okay! You're okay!”
“I... I think I'm okay, it feels like I just cut my forehead on the wheel.”
He's not dying, he's fine, we're fine, I... I really thought for a second...
Hugging him close, I kissed his cheek, tasting sweat and something like pennies. Blood, he's still bleeding, but... “Deacon, Deacon I... I thought you...” Sitting back, I looked into his baffled, warm eyes. Saw him watching me, seeing me.
Finally, I blurted the words I'd been struggling to hold in until I could be sure he felt the same way. Words I'd been scared to admit, once Bethany had confided to me that Deacon had said them to her first.
Things I had wanted to say since the day we'd held hands in the airport. The moment I'd felt the warmth buzzing in my core, forcing weakness into my muscles and flutters to my brain.
“I love you, Deacon,” I whispered, not even worrying what his response might be. “I love you, and I almost—I thought I wouldn't get to tell you. That you might be dead, and I'd never get a chance.”
For a moment, far too long for my comfort, he just watched me. Fingers coiled around my cheeks, pulling me in for a kiss so hard it hurt. I felt his teeth, felt his pulse.
I felt every bit of him, and wanted more.
“Leah, I love you too. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I just... it never seemed like the right moment, and I didn't—”
I shut him up, covering his mouth, forcing him against the seat. I didn't need to hear it again, I felt it in my whole being.
I believed him completely.
We stopped when he grunted, the cut on his head enough to distract him. “I'm bleeding everywhere,” he laughed, touching at his temple.
“Sorry,” I whispered, reaching for the light on the ceiling. “This is maybe a bad time to be confessing everything, huh?”
“No,” he said, watching me intensely. “It's not. Anytime would have been perfect, I think. Hindsight is funny like that.”
Smiling, I clicked the light and instantly grimaced. “That's a lot of blood, I hope it looks worse than it really is.”
“Bethany should have a first aid kit in the back seat pocket there.”
Twisting, I dug around until my fingers connected with the hard corner of the case. Opening it, I found a collection of tiny packets, a variety of ointments.
Soon, I'd washed away the crimson stains on his face with some damp wipes. “Yeah, it's just a cut.”
Deacon looked in the mirror, laughing softly. “I hit it in just the right spot to make one hell of a mess.”
Sticking a bandage over the wound, I sighed in relief. “We're lucky, you know.”
“I know,” he agreed, looking out the front window. “Did we go off the road?”
“It looks like it, but I can't really tell. All I can see is white. Should we try to drive forward and see?”
“I'm worried about what we can't see the most,” he murmured. “This will sound awful, but we might be about to miss our flight tomorrow.”
Laughing, I covered my mouth, trying to control the rather insane mirth. “Sorry,” I said at his questioning stare, “it's just that I realized I don't even care. I thought we were about to die, that I was going to lose you, Deacon.” Shrugging, I reached out and touched his forearm. “Everything else seems so small when compared to that.”
His mouth tightened, the centers of his wonderful eyes staying calmly on my own. “I shoved Nicholas down that night, Leah.”
“I—Deacon, no, I don't care.”
“I hurt him, and I felt like my world was ruined. Like I'd messed up, forever, become just like...”
“Deacon, seriously. It's okay.”
He gripped my hand, holding it against his arm firmly. “I thought I was becoming like Owen.”
Gingerly, I scooted across the seats, until we were pressed even closer together. The center console dug into my hip; I ignored it. “You're not like Owen. Not at all. Trust me on that, alright?”
Deacon pressed his forehead to mine, letting me feel the heat of his skin. “I'm ashamed I reacted like I did. I was just so upset about Nicholas and Bethany, I had all this... all this frustration built up in me over the years... It came out. It shouldn't have,” he added quickly, looking me dead in the face. “Leah, I swear it never will. Never again, and never to you, especially. Okay?”
My heart tightened, overwhelmed by the sheer fierceness of his promise. “Yes,” I whispered, utterly feeling he meant it.
Smiling, he pulled me against him, the two of us snuggling against the steering wheel. “God, Leah, I really do love you. I love you so much, and it feels amazing to just say it.”
Breathing in sharply, my cheek nuzzled against his. “I love you, too. And yeah, it does feel nice. It's a relief, to just be able to admit it.”
Laying there, holding each other, my mind worked to absorb everything that had happened. It was all so fast, so crazy...
But it felt right. Wasn't that all that mattered?
Sitting up, I glanced over my shoulder, out into the solid canvas of snow. “We should call someone, so they know where we are.”
“Except I'm not exactly sure where we are,” he sighed. “Bethany is going to be so mad about her car.”
Glancing over at the radio, hearing the Killer Sons rumbling another song, I was tempted to ask him about her. No, I thought silently, it doesn't matter. I don't care what that song did or didn't mean, to him or to her.
He loves me, none of that is important.
It felt oddly freeing, to not care about something as petty as a song Deacon had sung with an old high school girlfriend.
It was easy not to care when I was the one he was holding, now, our hearts thumping in the frail light of the SUV.
“Call Nicholas,” I murmured, reaching out to shut the engine off. The lights, the radio, it all cut out. “Tell him what happened, and then we might need to just wait this out until we can see where we are.”
My boyfriend nodded, digging out his cellphone.
Together, we listened to it ring, the silence of the car and our nearness allowing us to share. It took several tries before he finally answered.
“Jesus, man,” we heard him mumbled, “it's like, two in the morning. Why are you calling me?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Deacon moaned sympathetically. “Listen, we have a bit of an issue.”
The sharp awareness in Nicholas's voice was palatable. “What happened?”
“Well, we sort of had an accident.”
“I—are you guys okay? Define 'sort of' for me.”
Our eyes met as we shared a look. “Tell him we're fine,” I whispered.
“Is that Leah?” He asked, causing me to wince. I was sure I had been quieter than that.
Clearing my throat, I leaned closer to the phone by Deacon's ear. “Hey, Nicholas. Listen, the storm is pretty bad right now
. We kind of spun out on some ice.”
“Shit,” he growled, something fumbling against the phone. I imagined he was getting out of his bed, trying to talk at the same time. “Are you guys really okay? Where are you?”
Deacon pulled the cell closer, sighing. “Not sure where we are, but we're fine. I've got a small bump, nothing bad. Nicholas, the snow is coming down pretty hard. I can't see anything, my guess is we're off the road somewhere between exit six and exit ten on route ninety five.”
“You're still a good five hours away,” he said, “if you're right, I mean. Listen, hang tight, and I'll just—”
“Wait,” I piped up, placing my fingers on Deacon's shoulder. “Nicholas, don't try to come driving out here. You've got one good hand!
“I'll wake up Bethany, she can drive my dad's truck.”
“This weather is awful, you'll just get into an accident, too,” I snapped.
“So what am I supposed to do, then?”
“When the snow slows,” Deacon answered, “I'll check the car out, we might be able to keep driving. For now, we just... we wanted someone to know what happened.”
Chuckling, Nicholas must have flopped back onto his bed; we both heard the loud springs. “You know, if her car is mucked up, Bethany is going to be pissed.”
“We know,” Deacon said with a grim smile.
“Alright,” Nicholas muttered, sounding exhausted. “I guess sit tight, then, and let me know what's going on. I'd say Merry Christmas, but lucky you, you just missed that.”
Giggling, I shook my head slowly. “Thanks, Nicholas. We'll talk to you soon.”
“Yeah,” Deacon agreed. “Everything will be fine. Bye, brother.”
“Yeah, fine. Bye, guys. Be safe.”
The phone clicked, ending the call. Leaning away, I watched Deacon shove the device into his pocket roughly. “Well, we did that much. Guess we really do have to just wait, now.”
Inclining my head, I slid against him in the dark, our bodies illuminated by the ghostly haze of the snow outside. Pressed together, his fingers sliding up and down my upper arm, it was hard not to purr.
“At least we've got a great view of the snow,” he mumbled. “It's kind of lovely.”
“True. What should we do while we wait for it to stop, though?”
