Boondocks

Chapter 35: Sweet Cherry Pie

FERN

Being with Tex was like cherry pie cooling on the windowsill. I could smell the warm, buttery crust. I could imagine what it would be like to take a bite. But the sinfully hot pie would burn me to ashes if I didn't wait until it was time. At least, that's how Tex made it seem.

Meanwhile, Tex was the man who snatches the pie and keeps it all for himself.

He stripped me bare, then stood close, holding me upright with his gravity alone. Barely there touches that weren't touches at all lit my nerves and rattled my lungs. I trembled, splashing through the puddle that had once been my brain in search of more. Was he waiting for me? Was it my turn to act? The cool leather of his jacket brushed my skin, and I reached to slide it off.

Tex caught my wrists, kissed each palm like he did my mouth. Soft, tasting. "Not yet."

"Why?" The word was far too sultry to have come from me. It echoed how I felt—how he made me feel—in a way I couldn't have begun to describe. It had layers of meaning, like a poem that only made sense to those who felt it too. My soul was whispering to his, pleading for crumbs.

"You ain't ever done this, Darlin'." Tex placed my hands on his shoulders, ran his fingers over my arms, down my sides, palms flattening over my hips. He sucked in a harsh breath. "We've got to work up to that, and I'll go a whole lot slower if we've got some barriers."

"Oh," I breathed. He was teaching, just like I had him all those beautiful days in the woods. "What first?"

A soft groan rumbled his chest, and his hands slid to my waist, bringing me with him as he walked backwards several steps, then pivoted in a new direction. My hip bumped the mattress. "We could start by climbing into this nice bed."

And I did, and he climbed in beside me, over me, behind me as he gently turned me this way and that, and I realized I'd been wrong. The pie wasn't on a sill or out of reach. It was me. I was the pie, and Tex was the baker, kneading my every curve, softening my edges into something pliant he could mold whatever shape he wished. He was the oven, enveloping me in heat until I bubbled and browned and transformed. Ready to eat. He devoured. His mouth on my breasts, harsh breaths on my belly, his tongue sliding down the V between my thighs. His groan. "So goddamn sweet."

And as he did, I evolved into something new. Something that beckoned, asking for more without saying a word. I rolled my spine, my hips, gripped his braids as soft sounds erupted from strangled lungs. I lost myself, and there was no time. No past. No present. No future. In the empty space, I climbed mountains. I waded in clear-watered creeks as the sun chased away all memories of the cold, and in this place that he created, Tex was life. He was the hickories. The pines. The air I breathed. He was a mighty hawk with extended wings that flew me up high then watched me fall into a gasping heap of shaking limbs.

Then he held me, still fully clothed, whispering praise against my temple, and urging me to sleep.

***

I awoke the next day alone and emerged like a butterfly from a cocoon. New body. New eyes. Afternoon sun turned to glitter wherever the water stirred. It warmed the air as if spring were on its way instead of the hard winter to come. I knew that wasn't true, because starlings flew above the trees, like they always did in the fall, synchronized as they swirled, landed amongst the branches, then flew up to do it all again. In the wake of my transformation, I wanted to fly with them. I wanted to dance across the deck, arms above my head, wind in my hair, twirling into tomorrow like a starling.

Eve and Eric sprinted past, followed by the children from below deck, pirate personas and squealing laughter. We must have already stopped at the boats because Willow was also on deck, along with many of the injured men we'd left behind.

I spotted Tex, leaned over a table, tapping the map and vehemently rattling off details like he'd been doing since the day we left camp. But he was different too. He smiled—one of my smiles—and it was as if his two halves had been pieced together. My Tex and the other Tex morphed into one, and the harmony of it spread away from him in ripples, melting the tension. From the children. From the people hiding. Between his men and Sergio's.

Then he reached into a duffle by his feet, pulled out something red, and sat it on the table.

I stared at the bundle of dynamite how a person would stare at a pop of color in an otherwise gray world. The harmony wasn't real. It was an illusion, drawing us like sailors to a siren's call.

That golden horizon before us was the edge of the Earth. It was Savannah, and we would still fall. The wind whipped my hair, answering my thoughts on its way to propel us forward. Cold. Reminding.

The heavy black sails were like pockets of midnight against a Sunday afternoon. Darkness taking us home. I willed the wind to stop, just for a little longer, but nature laughed at my attempt. She didn't take commands, and I knew better than to make them.

Someone took my hand, and I jolted.

"What's wrong?" Tex searched my face.

I don't want to go to Savannah. I don't want to fight in a war. I don't want to help people. I just want to live—with you—in the middle of the densest wood, where no one and nothing can find us. "Nothing." I forced a smile, swallowing all the words I wanted to say. Nothing had changed because nothing could change. The world was the way it was, and hiding wasn't an option. Not for Tex. Not for me.

"Do you regret last night?" His voice was low, his brows drawn, but underneath, there was something more; that hidden language spoken with touches, magnified by the ability to see his face. His thumb trailed a path over my wrist. I haven't finished my pie.

My muscles went loose in the face of the baker, his promises too tempting to ignore. "How could anyone regret that?"

He smiled, wolfish, all but licking his chops. "I do aim to please." His tone softened. "Tell me what it is, and I'll fix it."

I almost believed him. I wanted to believe him. I could hide beneath his branches and pretend they would stop the rain. "It's not something that can be fixed."

"Tell me." He gave my hand a little tug, urging me on.

I didn't want to say it out loud, but I didn't think I could keep it inside. Not when he was waiting, expectant, and somehow able to tell anytime I lied. "The world." I paused. "Savannah."

His smile faded, and for a moment, he didn't speak. He scanned my face, gripping my hand. "I've got a plan for Savannah."

A plan. He had a plan, but the plan was the problem. The plan wasn't a plan at all. That was like saying he had a plan to walk through fire. It didn't matter how long he thought about it, the fire would still burn. "Like the plan we had to take this ship?" I tried to catch the words, but they barreled past my lips, determined to be heard whether it would change anything or not.

Tex stepped closer, seemingly unconcerned that we were surrounded by eyes. His fingertips grazed my elbow. "I didn't follow that plan, though, did I?"

I swallowed. "You didn't."

"That won't happen again."

"You can't know—"

"I'd do anything you asked me to, Darlin'." He shook his head, answering the question I hadn't asked, silently begging me not to ask it. "But this isn't a night out with the boys. It's bigger than that. It's bigger than all of us."

"I know." And I did, better than most. It was big enough to swallow the world, and it would, eventually. "You asked me what was wrong. That's it. I don't expect us to change it." I looked at my feet. "How long until we get there?"

"Too soon," he said. "Days. Weeks. Only the wind knows for sure." He tilted my chin up, forcing my eyes back to his. "But when it's me and you, that's all there is. We don't think about that bullshit. That's how I want it to be. For as long as we've got. Can we do that?"

I nodded, throat suddenly too tight to speak. It was all I could have hoped for, and better than no time at all.

"Good." He pulled me into a lingering hug, slid his hands down my back. "I've got to work, but I'm all yours later. You should get something to eat. They've still got some breakfast below deck in the kitchen."