“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”
Holy…
Fuck…
All of the frantic, nervous energy pours out of me like water spilling through my fingers. She said yes. She actually said yes? I open my eyes, leaning my forehead against hers, and she reaches up, holding me by the wrists. A powerful, delirious electricity passes through us and the room falls away.
I forget that all my life, all I’ve known is war. In this moment, with time standing still and everything changing, everything evolving, everything Silver, all I know is peace.
“Uhhh…kids? I know I’m not exactly paying you or anything, but do you think we might be able to get another couple of songs?” Harry asks, hovering by the front of the stage. “People are starting to get antsy and we’ve run out of the Philly Cheesesteak. If we could distract folk for a few minutes while Cliff runs to the store for some supplies, I sure would be really grateful.”
Because she’s a better person than I am, Silver eventually drags her gaze away from my face to look at the poor bastard. I, on the other hand, continue to stare at her like she’s the answer to every single question I’ve ever fucking asked.
“Sure, Harry. Sorry, I—we—uh—we just got a little sidetracked,” she says. I reiterate, I like Harry, he’s a genuinely good guy, but right now I could open-hand slap him for interrupting us. All I want to do is pick Silver up and carry her out of here, away from all the noise and the prying eyes that are boring into my back. I don’t want to share her. I don’t want to share this moment.
“Just half an hour,” Silver tells me, as if she can read my mind and knows how badly I suddenly need us to get the fuck out of here. “Thirty minutes and we’ll make our excuses.”
“Too long,” I rumble, shaking my head.
“Too bad,” she whispers, smiling, her eyes alive with excitement. “Don’t worry. The second we’re done playing, I’ll drag you out of here and across the road myself.”
Grudgingly, I let her go and sit my ass back down on my stool. The people in the crowd fall quiet, their conversations petering out as they realize we’re about to start playing again. This time, I don’t wait for Silver to strum her guitar. I get in there first with the opening chords of a song that isn’t on our set list. I don’t even know if she knows the song, but I want her to hear it. I want her to hear me sing…because she isn’t the only one who’s been hiding her voice.
Just like Dermot Kennedy’s, my voice is rocky, deep and bottomless. A little raspy and rough around the edges. I belt out ‘Power Over Me’, the emotion present, right where it needs to be. I’m not a gun at fingerpicking like Silver, but this was a piece of music I mastered a long time ago. My fingers skip over the strings, the music flowing out of me like I’ve just opened up the veins at my wrists and the words are pouring out of me like my very own life force.
Silver sits still like I did when she played Landslide, her guitar resting mute on her lap. She avoided looking at me when she performed, but I do the exact opposite. I only look at her. Definitely not the best way to connect with an audience, but so fucking what. I don’t care about connecting with any of them. Silver is my event horizon. My point of no return. Everything else is just white noise.
She’s so beautiful, my fucking soul hurts.
I don’t pause after I’m done with the song. I go straight into the next number on the list we drafted out, needing to keep the momentum going, and Silver joins in. We play a run of old numbers that the crowd sings along with, but we remain quiet. For our finale, when play Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars, and by some unspoken agreement Silver and I sing together, knowing that it’s only right, our voices rising and falling in unison, weaving together perfectly, and the haunting song renders the people in the diner utterly silent.
The final discordant note of the song is still ringing out across the diner when I get up, take Silver by hand, abandoning all of our equipment, and I drag her out of the building, into the darkness, and the night, and the rain…
…and we run.
23
ALEX
Silver gasps as I shove her up against my bedroom wall. I’m careful not to lean my weight against her, conscious of her sensitive ribs, but she pulls me closer by the front of my t-shirt, giving me an open-mouthed smile. “I’m not that fragile anymore, Moretti. I’m healed up just fine. You can take the gloves off a little.”
We’re both grinning like maniacs, drunk and high and stupid on the fact that I just posed a crazy question and she said yes to it. We don’t know what this new accord between us means for our future, no one can know what fate has in store for them for certain, but we both know the pact we just made in the diner is monumental and will change our lives forever. The apartment’s filled with a buzzing energy that makes me want to howl at the moon or tear my clothes off and throw myself into the lake, or jump on my bike, open the throttle and go faster than the wind. I need so badly right now. I need so many things. I need to feel. I need the adrenalin fizzing in my bloodstream. I need more oxygen than I seem to be able to coax into my lungs. I need Silver most of all.
“Only thing I’m concerned about taking off are your clothes,” I tell her. “Get rid of them. Get rid of them all. I want you naked on that bed in three seconds, or I’m gonna end up tearing through that Billy Joel shirt with my fucking teeth.”
Silver’s perfect mouth is swollen and red from the rough kiss I landed on her the moment we were through the apartment door. With dazed, unfocused eyes, she scans my face, picking over my features in a way that makes me want to tear her pants down, put her over my knee and spank her bare ass until it’s red raw for such blatant insubordination. I growl, the rumble vibrating in the back of my throat, and Silver’s pupils dilate even further.
“Wolf,” she accuses, eyeing the tattoo of the wolf on the back of my hand. “You’re a fucking savage, aren’t you.”
Oh, she has no fucking idea. Not even the first clue. I consider racing outside and howling up at the night sky again, knowing just how good the bite of the cold air will feel on my skin. I choose to stay here, towering over my beautiful wide-eyed prize instead. “Silver, you’re gonna scream so hard for me, the whole neighborhood’s gonna hear about it.”
I rub her bottom lip with my thumb, slowly using it to open her mouth. I push it inside, up to the first knuckle, and a dangerously wicked glint flashes in her eye. She’s going to bite…
“Ah, ah, ah.” I tut under my breath, pretending to disapprove. “Only wolves get to bite. And you…you’re not a wolf.” She hisses, surprised, when I quickly dip down and sink my teeth into her neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her squirm.
“I…could be a…wolf,” she pants.
I shake my head, hiding in the crook of her neck so she can’t see my teasing smile. “You’re a kitten, mi amore. A soft, cuddly, gentle kitten.” This is so far from the truth—she’s as fierce as a wolf, any day of the week—but it’s fun to tease her.
“Oooh, you are asking for trouble!” She pushes me away, planting her palms against my chest and firmly shoving. It’s barely enough force to shift me at all, but I willingly give her a foot. Just one. She’s still trapped in the circle of my arms as I rest my hands against the wall above her head, using it to brace myself. I find a lust-filled defiance dancing in her blue eyes. “You’re lucky I’m feeling forgiving, or I might have shown you just how sharp this kitten’s claws are,” she informs me.