10-Crow
1114 Words
The following days were a tapestry of awkward silences and forced smiles. Crow avoided me at all costs, his eyes pained whenever they did meet mine.
Mel, ever the peacemaker, tried to fill the gaps with her usual banter. "So, Ocean," she said one morning as we cleaned up the kitchen after Leo's breakfast, "any luck with that recipe for those banana muffins you talked about?"
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "They're in the oven now. I hope they turn out okay."
"They will," she said with a knowing look. "You're good at everything you set your mind to."
Her words hung in the air, a gentle reminder of the passion that had once blazed between her father and me. The mundane task of cleaning up the kitchen felt like a dance we'd performed a thousand times before, but now, every step felt misplaced, every gesture loaded with unspoken tension.
Crow's behavior grew more erratic as the days passed. He'd come and go at all hours, leaving me to manage the bar alone. His absence, a void that grew wider with every passing moment.
"What's going on with him?" I finally asked Mel one evening, as we sat out back, watching the stars emerge from the velvet sky.
She sighed, her eyes following the trail of a shooting star. "The Serpents are getting closer. He's trying to keep us all safe."
"And what happens to us when the storm hits?" I whispered.
Mel took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving the sky. "I don't know," she said, her voice filled with a sadness that mirrored my own. "But I do know that Dad's in love with you."
Mel’s confession hit me like a freight train, leaving me breathless. Love? The very idea was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Sure, I couldn’t deny I had feelings for Crow. But love? That wasn’t an emotion I was ready to lay claim to.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of a bike roaring away from the bar. At the sound, my heart sank—another day without a word from Crow. Mel's words had scared me. Raising a question within my mind of what my feelings for Crow actually were.
With a sigh, I walked into the kitchen, my gaze landing on a note scribbled on a napkin. Walking over, I twisted it in my direction.
'Ocean, we need to talk. I'll see you tonight at the bar'
---Crow
My hands trembled as I stared at Crow's message. Then, taking a deep breath, I folded it, and stuffed it in my pocket.
The hours stretched endlessly as I willed the time to move faster as I wandered around the apartment, and though I went through the motions of the day, preparing Leo lunch, making our beds, my mind was elsewhere.
As the sun finally began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of pink and orange, I gazed at the neon lights flickering in the twilight that cast a glow over the street outside my window.
The hour was still early for most of the bar's patrons, and the inside was empty except for Crow as I made my way down the stairs. He was sitting at the counter with a whiskey in hand. He looked up, his eyes dark with a mix of emotions as he gazed in my direction—fear, anger, and something else that I dared not name.
"You came," he said, his voice rough.
I nodded, taking a seat beside him. "It's a work night, of course I came. What's going on, Crow?"
He took a deep pull from his glass, the amber liquid catching the light. "We've got a problem," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "The Serpents are moving in. And they're not going to stop until they get what they want."
"And what's that?" I asked, feeling a sudden uneasiness crawl up my spine.
Setting the tumbler down with a thump, he growled, "They want the bar."
The air grew thick with the weight of his words. The bar was more than just a place of work for the Riders; it was their sanctuary, their home.
"What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice small as what it meant for Leo if the Serpents took possession of the bar.
Crow looked at me, his eyes hard. "They'll have to kill me first."
~~
The tension grew. The Riders were on high alert, their bikes louder than usual as they rode in and out of town, and I could feel the storm coming; it was a coil tightening in my gut with every rev of an engine.
One afternoon, as I was closing up, Rouger pulled me aside. "You got a minute?" His gruff voice was softer than usual, his eyes concerned.
"Sure," I said, wiping my hands on the apron. "What's up?"
He leaned against the bar, his arms crossed over his chest. "You know we've got your back, right? Whatever happens with the Serpents, we're here for you and Leo."
I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thanks, Rouger. That means a lot."
"Don't mention it, kid. You're one of us now," he said with a small smile before disappearing into the back.
The words stuck with me as I locked up, the neon lights of the Murder of Crows sign flickering like a heartbeat in the quiet night. One of them. I was part of the Renegade Riders, a family I never knew I needed.
The next evening, as I was walking from my pickup to the bar, I heard the rumble of bikes. The Renegades were lined up and ready to ride out, Crow was at the front, and his eyes met mine for a brief, intense moment, before they pulled away, leaving me standing alone with the echo of their departure. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the start of something that would change everything—for me, for Leo, for the Renegades. And as the sound of their bikes faded into the night, I knew there was no turning back.
The next morning, Mel and I sat on the porch, our nerves strung tight as a guitar string. We didn't talk much, just listened to the distant whispers of the town, the occasional car passing by, and the ever-present silence that seemed to swallow the morning.
"You know they went after the Serpents, right?" she finally spoke, her voice barely a murmur.
I nodded. "What can we do?"
"We wait," she said, her jaw clenched. "And we hope that when this is all over, we're still a family."
- Writer
