I Run to You (45 page)

Carrying the coffee, she eyed the movie
shelf, action flicks, classic star wars, and the like, cartoons.
The video game, age appropriate on the bottom, others up higher.
Little things lay on the second coffee table ledge, rocks, shells,
action figures piled up, and wolverine—just about everything.

Going to the back deck, she stepped out.

The sky was purplish. The scent from the
bonfire reached her.

Sipping, she leaned there awhile, envying
them the view and the lull of the water, the serenity of living
where they did.

Coy’s tread made her turn. He had on button
flies, athletic shoes, and an unbuttoned blue shirt. His eyes light
in his face; he met her at the rail and took the mug, stealing a
long drink before setting it aside.

His hands went down her arms. He lowered his
head and softly kissed her.

Brook’s hands went to his hips. With a moan,
his went around, spread, and lifted her by a hold on her ass. He
kissed her again, his tongue lazy and erotic, tasting her.

Eyes a bit glazed, she stared at him when
their lips parted.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered, and those
strong hands were bringing her up, higher, so that their groins
touched.

She felt the ridged length of his sex behind
the fly, hard and warm. With the rail at her shoulders, he leaned
her further, forcing her to put her arms more around him. Mouth on
hers again, he sought depth with his tongue.

Easing up at some point, he bit at her lip,
breathed in her ear on a half groan, “I could kiss you for
hours.”

Coy took her hand after releasing her,
leading her back inside.

Brook felt that palm-to-palm touch too
acutely. Her mouth still tasting him, she stood at the counter with
him while he poured a thermos full and she finished her own
cup.

They headed back out.

He glanced at her, “You’re too quiet.”

She returned, “You didn’t give me time to
think about this. If we are… you know. Everyone will make more of
it—”

At the vehicle, he asked, “Than what? What it
is?”

“Yes.”

He secured the thermos, and let her climb
on.

Before starting the engine, he supplied
roughly, “Everyone knows how I feel about you. How I’ve always
felt.”

Brook held to him on the ride back.

You are in trouble, she thought. He turns you
on. He feels so right—he tastes so right. She could not surrender
emotions to him. That much of herself, connected to him before, had
been too painful a lesson.

The sun had gone down. Many of the elders
were leaving. Most of the underage kids had gone on to their
camping.

They had passed Mitch and Madeline heading
out. Brook’s smile was more of a grimace, but she caught Madeline’s
double take stare out the truck side window.

Bonfires and intimate campfires now dotted
the area.

Teens were walking with their boyfriends and
girlfriends, or sitting on picnic tables.

When they climbed off, Coy led her to the
area Max and Jordan had chosen. Jason and Lee, Doug, most of them,
had brought their instruments and guitars. Some of the collage age
had everything from bongo drums to tambourine, mandolin, and a
synthesizer.

No one was playing yet, because Alvin and
G.W.—the chaperones, she supposed, were entertaining by bonfire
light, doing a hilarious routine to ZZ Tops, “Sharp dressed
man”—both of them in bib overalls and leather caps.

Where beer had been sipped from cups earlier,
it now showed up in frosted bottles.

The vibe had definitely changed. A bonfire,
summer night, and the thirty-five to eighteen crowd.

Unable to help laughing, Brook watched the
brothers, while Coy went to fetch chairs. People were back on
blankets, others standing, yelling and whistling. This bonfire was
near the water’s edge—teens were dancing on the pier, too.

The fire cast a wide glow of amber over most
of the area so there was plenty of room to see down there too.

Brook clapped with the rest when it was
over.

Four of the younger adults had worked
something up with friends, and when Coy brought their low lawn
chairs, she still was enjoying their antics.

He stood with her, smiling. She could hear
his chuckles as the girls danced around the guys, feeling them up
dramatic MTV style.

That done, the bongo initiated a funky beat
that was picked up with tambourine. The synthesizer came in. the
younger group began to sing. Couples got up, dancing to the beat
of, Down.

Jordan and Max, Lee, Doug, their dates—and on
the far side, Brook saw Rafe and Ashley— getting sexy as they moved
together.

She felt Coy put his hand low on her spine
before he stepped in front of her. He tugged her a few steps, then
went behind her, and began to move. Brook moved with him.

She forgot watching anyone else. His hands
touched her hips. Her ass rubbed his front. Several times, they
were so close, moving erotically, his hand on her stomach, sliding
lower. She reached back, holding his thighs, hips undulating.

She had danced the beat before, done a little
grind— but it had never felt so much like sex, so carnal, as it did
dancing with Coy.

Turning around, she moved her hips to the
rhythm, looking up at him; her hand touched his bare stomach. The
music had not yet ended when he moved her back into the
shadows.

It ended sometime during the erotic kiss they
exchanged. Breathing sharp, constricted, Brook tasted him; her
tongue aggressive, blood running hot and fast. She could feel his
heart thrashing. Her head spun. Her body burned for him.

Heads moving, they rolled tongues, bit lips,
suckled, — got out of control. Coy’s hands went over her body,
touching and molding, bringing her close, rubbing their bodies
sexually.

He had his palm low on her midriff when they
both heard Max and Jason calling for him to come play the
guitar.

Gasping, trying to catch his breath, Coy held
Brook tight to his chest and yelled, “Give me a minute.”

He took her hand and led her to a nearby
truck. At the side of it, he let go, bending over slightly, hands
cupped over the edge of the truck bed, and head hanging down
between his arms. “I’ve been hard for you so long,” he whispered,
“This one ain’t going nowhere.”

Brook didn’t laugh. She felt too much the
same.

She leaned against the truck door, trying to
calm herself down too and slanted a look at him. He was breathing
in long breaths but they shuddered out from his lungs as bad as
hers did.

He straightened, turned, and leaned, as she
was, head back and looking up at the night sky. He sucked in lungs
full of air and let them out, slanting her a glance this time. Not
teasing, only a deep fire burning in his amber gaze.

He reached out and caught her hand, drew her
to him and embraced her before scoring his lips over her brow.

A moment afterwards, he led her back to the
fire.

Coy did not loose her hand, so Brook walked
over to the bench with him like that.

The others were talking, laughing, but she
saw more than one set of eyes widen, before she let go of his
hand.

She went to the opposite side. They still
faced each other, Max, Jordan between them, and Jason at his other
elbow.

Several of the girls sat by Brook.

Jordan played first, a song she sang to Max,
as if no one else were around. It was “Breathless,” by Corinne
Bailey Rae.

Every lover/couple by the fire looked at each
other during the soft smoky rendition. She and Coy were no
exception—although he was putting the capo on his guitar and
adjusting strings.

Next, Jordan sang only with the bongo beats,
“Bleeding Love,” and the women sang verses in turns.

Brook clapped the beat with the others. Renee
sang the higher notes.

She did her last one, a James Morrison tune
she had updated, “Nothing ever hurt like you.”

After applause, Jordan put the guitar down,
saying, “I want to listen to you guys.”

She opened a beer and motioned to Coy, Max,
Jason, and the other Coburn’s. “Please.”

Brook held her breath, and then let it out in
a rush as she reached into a cooler for a beer. She uncapped it and
sat back; watching Coy strumming rhythm, after glancing at Jason
and the rest to pick up the tune, and the Mandolin came in.

He was singing Diamond Rio, “That’s what I
get for loving you.” She made herself look at the fire, but she
knew he stared at her as he sang— because she felt everyone else
looking at her too.

Love is a feeling, I never knew much
about…

A dream that is real and a heart that beats
true…That’s what I get for lo—ving you….

She raised her eyes on the last note. Met
his, read his unspoken words clear enough.

He sang Tim McGraw’s, (Do I) and Brook felt
it all over her body. After jerking her eyes from him, she
encountered Max’s as he was resting his hands atop his guitar,
letting the others play that one.

Max smiled gently. Brook shook her head,
sighing, heavily—she heard the opening lines from Jason—to
Nickleback's, “Gotta be somebody,” with plenty of backup
singers.

She smiled and looked up to see everyone else
grinning too, since Jason had yet to find the love of his life. She
thought, deep down, Jason is looking, aching, for the right woman
to love, for the rest of his life. He is just passing his time— and
hoping he will find what Madeline and Mitch had.

Max finally sang to Jordan, Braid Paisley’s
“She’s everything to me.” and Brought tears to Jordan’s eyes—and
everyone else’s too.

There was a break, to piss, get a beer, and
smoke. Deege and Lee played several songs, as did the younger ones,
pop ballads, soul.

They were a talented family.

Coy motioned her over when everyone was
settled.

Brook shook her head—no.

He persisted, and Max finally got up and
hauled her to sit in his spot, next to coy.

Lifting, Coy pulled a folded paper out of his
back pocket. “Sing it. We’ll pick up the tune.”

She blinked at him after unfolding the sheet;
her face flushed from more than the fire. “Where’d you get
this?”

“Levi pulled it out of a notebook you’d left
at Madeline’s,” he said quietly. “He was going to draw on it, and
then realized it was a song you had written. When I came by to get
him, he was sitting on the picnic table with it beside him. I
picked it up.”

She scanned the words, looked up, and
insisted tightly, “I can’t.”

That started two dozen, “Aww. Come on. You
have to sing it now.”

Brook smoothed out the sheet while they were
still coaxing, afterwards looking a Coy—who was watching her,
waiting.

When she still hesitated, he offered, “I
memorized it, I’ll sing it with you.”

Inwardly groaning, that is what I am afraid
of— she finally gave up, gave him the key and then began…

Why lie in the darkness, where no one else
can see

I’m wishing you a breath away, holding onto
me

Your eyes say the same things, baby; though
our words, never do.

In our hearts were lovers—me, holding onto
you.

How many years, since we let go, you making
me undone

Lying to ourselves and others, our hearts out
on the run

Your kisses say the same things baby, though
mine never do

In my heart we lovers, I’m running back it’s
true

Why lie in the darkness where no one else can
see

You’re dreaming the same thing baby, the one
of you and me

I never have to speak it, if you’re a breath
away

Your eyes pierce my secrets, more of them
each day

Why lie in the darkness, holding hands of
time

When I could be touching you, your lips a
breath from mine

Brook stopped there—but Coy sang his own
verses, his gaze locked with hers.

If I could lie in the darkness, undo your
broken heart

I’d take us both back, to a day, when no
worlds fell apart

Your kisses are my heaven; your love gave me
wings

I lay in the darkness, baby. You’re my only
dreams…

I can’t make you speak it, my lips breathe
out the sighs

Regret I feel for both of us, a thousand
sleepless nights

In my heart we’re lovers, I run to where you
are

And hold you in my arms again, make
everything all right.

So with one breath between us, I’ll say it
one more time

I’ve loved you forever, baby— hearts never
lie….

For a moment there was only the popping,
crackling of the fire. Then someone started clapping, and it
rippled over the crowd.

Brook used the distraction to get up and move
from the light.

She heard Coy’s footfalls before he stopped
her, catching her by the shoulders and pulling her back against
him.

His arms came around her and Brook let him
hold her weight, feeling too much indeed to speak yet.

Someone was playing, singing again, when
Coy’s head lowered, his whisper in her ear, “Come home with me. Let
me do you right.”

A sexual shiver worked down her spine.

Brook moaned out a whisper, “You never give
up, do you. You make me crazy.”

He enfolded her tighter. “I make you hot. “
He turned, with his arm holding her to his side.

She walked in the dewed grass toward where
they had left the four-wheeler.

G.W. was getting something out of his truck,
and glanced over as they passed him. “I didn’t see anything.”

Brook snorted, remembering the cell phone
photos.

Coy chuckled before they mounted the vehicle.
“He’s cool about some things. He won’t razz us over this.”

No, she thought, but everyone else in the
family will see us heading down the road.

Her cheek against his back as they rode to
his house, Brook was still questioning herself. Still scared—of
falling in love with him—like before.