6-Crow
1051 Words
The next day dawned bright and hopeful—a contrast to the tension that had filled our nights. Mel suggested we take Leo to the beach; a place where the salt air could do him some good and the sound of the waves might distract him from the ever-present whispers of his illness.
I agreed, eager for a break from the shadow of the gang's world.
The five of us piled into Crow's pick-up, the bed filled with towels, a cooler, and a battered old beach umbrella that had seen better days. Leo's eyes lit up like the sun itself as we drove towards the coast. He sat in the middle of the bench seat, leaning eagerly into me, his hand tightly clutching a small, frayed blanket that had been his security since he was a baby.
When we arrived at the beach, the horizon stretched wide and the ocean met the sky in a seamless embrace. The sand was warm under our feet, and the scent of the sea wrapped around us like a welcoming blanket.
Mel and I set up the umbrella with a few laughs and a lot of flapping, while Crow and Rouger took Leo to the water's edge. The sight of the two men with the small, fragile boy between them was heartwarming, and it made me feel like, just maybe, Leo would be okay.
We played in the surf, the waves crashing over our bare feet and sending us into fits of laughter. It was the kind of day that made you forget about the troubles of the world, if only for a little while. But the storm clouds of reality never strayed far, even on days like this.
As the sun began to dip low in the sky, Crow's gaze grew distant, and I knew he was thinking about the impending threat of the Serpents. He'd been quieter than usual, his eyes often drifting to the horizon as if he could see the danger lurking there.
After we arrived home and I had put Leo to bed, I came back down stairs and into the bar’s kitchen, Crow was sitting at the table.
"Ocean, I need to ask you something," he began, his voice barely a whisper above the storm. "Leo's condition. It's not just something he’ll outgrow, is it?”
“No.” I murmured, my voice so low even I could barely hear it. “He’s suffering from Kidney Disease.”
The silence was deafening as Crow's hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles white with the force of his grip. Then, jerking to his feet, he walked out of the room.
~~
The following days were a blur of work, training, and moments with Leo. The bond between Crow and I grew stronger, but the unspoken tension remained. We were both aware of the line we were tiptoeing, a line that could lead to heartbreak or something far more dangerous.
One evening, after Leo had fallen asleep, Mel and I sat on the porch, watching the stars come out one by one. "You know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Crow's never talked about your dad the way he does around you."
"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to look at her.
"He's...different," she said, fidgeting with a loose thread on her shirt. "More...human. You're the best thing that's happened to this family in a long time."
Her words stayed with me long into the night, echoing in my mind as I lay in bed, the distant rumble of motorcycles the only lullaby in the quiet darkness.
The next morning, the routine was the same—coffee, Leo's laughter, and the ever-present buzz of the impending storm that was the gang war. Mel was quieter than usual, her eyes often drifting to the framed picture of her mother and father that sat on the mantle of the bar.
"You miss her," I said, sitting beside her and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Every day," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.
I squeezed her shoulder, unsure of what to say.
"Thanks," she murmured, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
We decided to spend our night off at the bar, not to work but to enjoy ourselves. The atmosphere was different when the Riders were off-duty, the air less charged with tension and more filled with camaraderie and laughter.
"To Leo," Crow said, raising his whiskey glass to me. His eyes never left mine, and I felt the warmth of the liquid spread through me as I clinked my glass against his. The whiskey burned a path down my throat, but it was the heat of his gaze that really set me alight.
The music played on, a mix of rock and blues that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the bar. Rouger had taken over the jukebox, his grin wide as he played tunes that had everyone's feet tapping. Mel was at the pool table, her cue stick moving with a grace that belied her usual tough exterior. She winked at me as she sank another ball, and I couldn't help but smile back.
Crow and I sat at the bar, our stools pulled closer together as the night progressed. His hand brushed against mine, a casual touch that sent electric shocks through me. Each time, my heart stuttered, and I wondered if he felt it too—this pull that was growing stronger with every passing moment.
When a slow song began to play, Crow leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. "Dance with me," he whispered. I nodded, and he slid off the stool, his hand reaching out to me. His touch sent shivers down my spine as he led me to the makeshift dance floor, the scarred wooden boards creaking under our boots.
As he pulled me into his arms, his hold was desperate and tender, full of passion and a hint of the danger that surrounded him. The bar faded away until there was only us.The music wrapped around us, a seductive serenade that whispered of our need to let go, to find solace in each other's embrace. His hand slid down to the small of my back, guiding me closer, until my breasts were pressed against his chest.
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