The Firefly Effect (30 page)

Resting my head against his shoulder, I let my eyes wander back to the glass panes. Even though it’s only mid-afternoon, the storm’s darkness resembles dusk.

The rain lets up briefly, and through the misty gloominess I catch sight of something unexpected.

At first I think it has to be my imagination. That I’m seeing things. But the harder I focus, the more I come to realize the tiny sparks are not my eyes playing tricks on me. They’re really there. Thousands of them, shimmering and glowing like moonlight reflecting off the ocean.

“Now that’s strange.” Raising my head, I stare out the window at the sparkling lightning bugs.

“What’s strange?”

“The fireflies are back.” I watch the twinkling little lights in wonder, marveling that something so small would be able to withstand such savage winds. How is it they haven’t been swept away? “I don’t get it. Why would they be trying to mate in the middle of a hurricane? And how can they be strong enough to fly around out there in all that wind?”

Shane turns his head to follow my gaze before replying simply, “They aren’t.”

“You’re telling me you don’t see that? Look. See all those lights?”

“I see them.” He sounds amused by my bewilderment. “But there’s nothing out there. Not really. What you see is an illusion. Your fireflies are nothing more than sand particles blowing in the wind. The grains collide while in flight, and the friction creates millions of electrostatic sparks. It isn’t fireflies. It’s just one of those rare phenomenons of nature.”

Oh. Well, I guess that explanation makes more sense. I have only a few brief seconds to watch the glittering show before the sky releases another downpour and my vision is obscured by heavy sheets of sideways-blowing rain.

“Much like yourself,” I mutter under my breath. Not loud enough for him to hear, I think, but I am mistaken.

“Me? What do you mean?”

Hesitating, I look up at him. “A rare phenomenon of nature. That kind of describes you.”

“Does it?” He grins, apparently pleased by the comparison. “Hm. I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Take it any way you like.”

A startled squeal escapes me as he suddenly scoops me off my feet and strolls toward the dark hallway. “All right then.”

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and peer down at the floor as it bounces past. As tall as he is, it seems like a long way down. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Sasquatch?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. I was under the impression that you just gave me permission to take you any way that I like.”

“That’s
not
what I said!” I insist through my giggles.

“Well, that’s what I heard. Maybe you should speak more clearly next time.”

“Put. Me.
Down
.” My lips enunciate each word carefully.

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

I squeal again as he drops me on my bed – correction, it’s technically
his
bed, isn’t it? – and proceeds to peel off his clothes. But to my surprise, he stops short of his underwear before sliding underneath the covers next to me.

Eying him warily, I wiggle out of my shorts and slip my legs beneath the cool sheets. He reaches for me and we connect like magnets, fitting together in a way that has me almost believing our bodies were originally designed as one piece. I snuggle into him, draping one leg over his hip with a contented sigh.

“I vote we spend the rest of the afternoon in bed,” he murmurs softly. “That’s what rainy days are made for, don’t you think?”

“Is this what you normally do on a rainy day?” I ask facetiously. “Spend it curled up in bed with a random woman?” Ugh – why did I say that? I don’t like that thought. Not at all.

“You are anything but random.” He tangles his fingers in my hair and massages the back of my neck gently through the strands. “And if there were others in my bed, they were only there because you weren’t.”

What is
that
supposed to mean? I mull it over for a while before dubiously remarking, “I’m not sure that really answered my question.”

“Then maybe this will. No, I won’t claim to have been a saint. Some people might even call me a downright asshole. Women have passed through my life, yes, but they never stuck around for long and that’s my own fault. I never gave them the opportunity. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, just the occasional one-night stand to take the edge off. Which is about as far as anything ever progressed. No doubt that makes me come off as a selfish prick, and I won’t deny that I can be, but the honest-to-God truth is I didn’t care what anyone thought. I wasn’t willing to try because I didn’t give two shits about anyone but myself. Didn’t care anything about getting to know any of those women beyond the bedroom. They just didn’t interest me.”

The muscles in my abdomen tighten with dread. Is that the case here? With me? And dammit, why does the thought of being nothing to him scare the bejesus out of me when all along I’ve insisted that this will never progress any further?

“Why not?” I whisper. Obviously I am a masochist to even ask.

“Maybe because they weren’t you.”

The clenching in my middle relaxes in a swarm of butterflies.

Oh.
Oh, my God. What is he saying here?

He couldn’t possibly mean…

No. Could he? No.

“Shhh,” he purrs quietly. “I answered your question. Now go to sleep. I want you having sweet dreams by the time I count to ten.”

“Shane…”

“One. Two.”

Sleep? How can he even suggest it? I know for a fact he isn’t thinking about sleep. His erection is so stiff against me I can practically feel the veins pulsing. Just to prove it I push my hips forward slightly and although I feel him twitch in response, he pretends not to notice.

“Three. Four.”

“You don’t feel sleepy to me.”

“Irrelevant. Five. Six.”

“If you want me to have sweet dreams, then give me something to dream about.”

“I know you’re tired, naughty girl. I saw you yawning earlier. You could use a nap so don’t fight it. Seven. Eight.”

“Not
that
tired.”

“I won’t have you believing that sex is all I think about. Nine.”

“Ten,” I whisper, wrapping my fingers around his length.

“Ten,” he repeats hoarsely.

“Definitely a ten.” Tasting his lips with my tongue, I slip my hand into the waistband of his jockeys and work my grip up and down what is undeniably a solid ten.

“You are a wicked, wicked woman,” he groans.

“I like to think of myself as persuasive.”

“That you are. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe
you’re
the one who’s obsessed with sex.”

“Maybe I’m obsessed with you.”

“God, I hope so.” He doesn’t waste time trying to remove my panties, instead just pushes them aside far enough to slide his cock into my core. One sublime thrust and he is all the way there, deep inside me, right where I want him. Right where he belongs. “Ah, that’s it, that’s my sweet little Felony…it’s gotta be a capital offense, what you do to me…”

My leg coils more tightly around his waist as we lie facing each other on our sides. He is gazing into my eyes, lost in the intimacy, moving his hips slowly and leisurely as if trying to prolong the feeling.

The feeling of us.

That’s all there is right now.
Us
. In this moment, we are the only two people in the world. No one else exists. There is nothing to pull us apart.

I wish it could be this way forever.

But I know it’s just an illusion. The rest of the world is out there somewhere, waiting to burst in like the intrusive bitch it is. Reality will set in, and life will go on, and it won’t hesitate to go on without
us
.

Somehow, the way he watches me, I get the impression that he’s aware of it too.

“
Melanie
…”

There is a sense of urgency in his voice, and I tremble with a surge of conflicting emotions as he holds me closer, crushing me against his chest. I don’t respond. I don’t know what to say. Because the only words that come to mind are the ones I know he isn’t prepared to hear.

“Melanie…
God
, baby…”

We drift off to sleep afterwards, curled in a tangle of arms and legs, waking sometime later just long enough to fuck ourselves into a state of lassitude once again.

I have to admit that he was right. Rainy days really are made for this.

Sometime during the night, I wake to a strange silence only to find that the savage wind has worn itself out.

In the quiet darkness, beyond the shutters, nothing remains but a tired breeze.

Heaven’s tears have finally stopped falling.

The storm is over.

“You’re leaving already?”

We just finished breakfast – if lukewarm soda and cherry Pop Tarts can be construed as breakfast – and already he’s gone around opening all the storm shutters and picking up the largest of the fallen branches scattered across the yard. Now he’s checking the oil in his car. What’s his damn hurry is what I’d like to know. Is he that desperate to leave? According to the local news, the bridge hasn’t even been reopened all that long. Couldn’t he just chill out here for another day?

“I figured you’d be anxious to get rid of me.” Grinning, he pushes the hood shut and retrieves his buzzing cell phone from the pocket of his faded jeans.

“Actually, I was kind of wishing you didn’t have to go.” I shoot his phone a dirty look and wish whoever-it-is would stop interrupting us. This makes the fifth time this morning. I’d like to send them a message saying FUCK OFF. DEAL WITH IT YOURSELF.

Glancing up from the text he’s reading, he tells me, “I’d stay if I could. You know that. But I need to get back, Melanie. I have responsibilities. It isn’t right that Ethan should have to handle everything on his own. He has a life too, and I’ve already been gone longer than I anticipated.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” I point out.

“Oh no, baby,” he chuckles, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “It was one hundred percent, most definitely your fault.”

I can’t help but smile as he pulls me into his embrace. “That’s it, blame me. Like I didn’t ask you numerous times to take a hike.”

“Are you glad I stayed?” he asks in a whisper.

“That’s a stupid question.” Reaching behind his neck, I tug his ponytail playfully. His response to that is a delicious, lingering kiss that leaves me breathless. And the pang it leaves behind in my chest reminds me of just how much I want him to stay.

I follow him back inside and stand there watching while he tosses his belongings into the travel bag. Soon every trace of him will be gone. I keep half expecting that he will ask me to go with him. Silly, isn’t it?

And yet when he doesn’t, the disappointment is crushing.

“I hate going off and leaving you here with the power still out,” he comments.

“Well, there’s not much you can do about it. Anyway, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need plugs and outlets to survive.”

“Don’t forget, there are extra batteries in the kitchen.”

“I know.”

“And don’t go off and leave any candles burning.”

“What am I, eight? I’m not going to burn your house down.”

“You did a pretty good job of setting
me
on fire.” Looking up from his packing, he winks at me with a smirk.

“Oh, well,” I reply flippantly. “You’re insured, right?”

“The house or me?”

“If you have to ask, then it’s probably high time you stopped buying your insurance policies from Soapy.”

“Sage advice.” Disappearing into the bathroom, he returns a moment later with his leather toiletry case. “Promise me something. Stick around here, at least for today. I don’t want you going out anywhere. The news said there were power lines down all over the place and I’d feel a lot better if I knew you weren’t roaming around town.”

“I was just gonna walk down to the beach and check it out. There might be some good shells washed up onshore.”

“Now? Can’t it wait a day or two?”

“Shane, I’m not an idiot. I know enough to stay away from danger.”

“Do you?” His eyes twinkle naughtily as he zips the bag shut and slings the strap over his shoulder. “I’m not so sure about that. You didn’t do such a good job staying away from me. Now. Is there anything you need before I go?”

“I don’t think so,” I shrug, tagging behind him as he heads back out to the garage. I’m starting to feel like a stray puppy nipping at his heels. Linking my hands behind my back, I watch as he tosses the travel bag into the back seat.

And when he turns to face me, I know this is goodbye.

I hate goodbyes. Why are they called that? There is absolutely nothing good about them.

My arms circle his waist and I nuzzle my cheek against his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent, doing my best to memorize it. I can feel the warm pulse of his heartbeat. Sighing as he hugs me close, it occurs to me that I have never felt safer, more at peace, than when I am wrapped in these arms. It makes no sense that I would fall for this man so hard and so fast, but for whatever reason, I have. It’s as if in these past few days, he’s branded his name on my heart.

I don’t want him to go.

But, of course, he does.

Dropping a kiss on top of my head, he gets in the Tahoe and lowers the window to tell me in a gruff voice, “You have my number. Use it.”

“I will.”

“Take care of yourself, Felony.”

“You, too.” I smile, play it cool, but inside I am aching. “Have a safe trip back.”

Gazing at me with those intense dark eyes, he nods. “See you soon.”

Then in a slow crunch of tires on pavement, he is gone.

Breathing a heavy sigh, I trudge back into the quiet, empty house. But it’s grown stuffy in there and the lack of electricity provides no distractions, so I decide to keep myself busy by cleaning up the yard. Shane has already taken care of the bigger limbs, but there are plenty of sticks and small branches scattered about.

The wet grass squishes beneath my feet, soaking through the sneakers I’m wearing, and I sink into the ground with every step. I can’t even begin to fathom how much rain must have fallen. It’ll take forever for the gulf coast to dry out from this.

When I’m done with my chore, I drag one of the patio chairs out of the utility room. Kicking off my shoes, I plop down and peel off my wet socks before making myself comfortable.

I stay out there for the longest time, just hugging my knees and staring off into the distance. Thinking.

Questioning his last words.

See you soon.

~ Chapter Twenty-Four ~

The Florida state line vanished in my rearview mirror over an hour ago.

I find myself wishing the Tahoe was going in the opposite direction. Back to her. It feels like I’m walking out of her life for a second time, and that’s not my intention. That was never my intention.

With every click of the odometer, every additional mile I put between us, I can feel myself growing more and more restless. Less sure of the decision I made not to press her. Of my resolve to slow things down a bit. We jumped into this so fast. Headfirst and eyes wide shut.

The truth is, I had scripted in my head a very convincing speech illustrating why I thought she should come along. I was fully prepared to shoot down every possible argument she might come up with. As far as I was concerned, there wasn’t a single valid reason why she shouldn’t just pack up and ride to Tennessee with me. She could just as easily work on her manuscript at my place, couldn’t she?

But in the end I didn’t bring it up. Something in me, some nagging intuition, told me she wasn’t quite ready. That she needs time to think this over. A little time apart from me so she can figure out whether this is something worthy of pursuing, or whether – God forbid – the whole thing really was nothing more to her than sexual gratification.

I’ve never had a problem with being alone before – hell, I’ve always preferred it that way – but right now the solitude is depressing as hell.

It’s too fucking quiet. And the radio isn’t helping.

So I press the phone button on the MyLink screen and proceed to call the one person who serves as my connection to her.

Leah’s animated voice cuts in almost immediately. “Hey there, butt burglar! I thought maybe you blew off to Oz. It got crazy for a while there, didn’t it? Is the house okay? It didn’t get flooded or anything, did it?”

“The house is fine. So are we, by the way, thanks for asking.”

“Well duh, I knew you were or I wouldn’t be talking to you, would I? Oh my gosh, you wouldn’t believe how bad it got here last night. The power’s still out. Oh, and there’s a pine tree down in the back yard and Daddy’s been out there for like two solid hours trying to cut it up and haul it off. I don’t know why he doesn’t just call someone. You know, like a tree service or something...”

“It didn’t hit anything, did it?”

“No. It fell the other way and anyway it wasn’t close enough. Hey, is your power out too?”

“Was when I left.”

“When you left? Where are you at right now? Sounds like you’re driving.”

“I don’t know. Somewhere between Fort Deposit and Montgomery.”

“You headed home?”

“No. I just thought running all the gas out of my tank would be a fun thing to do today.”

There is a brief silence from the other end. “So you
are
headed home.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Professor Poindexter, I’m on my way back home.”