Chapter Thirty-Seven – Fawn #3
Torin’s jaw clenches — not in anger, but in a way that suggests he’s holding something back. He cradles my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away tears I didn’t know were falling. “Fawn, I swear to you, we’ll show up. Every time.”
Dylan swallows hard. “And you don’t ever have to doubt it. You’ll never be too much or a burden. You’re not something we’ll walk away from when things get hard.” He exhales and stops for a second. “You’re home to us, princess.”
This has to be a dream, the kind you fall into when you are flipping through a romance novel, and the pages become a blurry haze until you fall asleep. This kind of thing does not happen to people like me, not like this.
For a second, I tightly squeeze my eyes shut then open them quickly. I need to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” I ask, catching my breath.
“Feels like it, but no, this is very real,” Dylan says.
He takes the bottle from me and tips it back, taking a deep swig before putting it behind us.
They both lean in without saying a word, resting their heads on top of mine as we sit there, watching the sun lower on the horizon, painting the sky with oranges and pinks.
Wrapped between them, I feel impossibly small and safe all at once.
“Us three . . .” Torin breathes, the words barely louder than the water beneath the dock.
“Us three,” I echo quietly, a silent vow.
“The three of us,” Dylan adds.
It’s the slight difference in what Dylan says, but we all laugh. It carries across the water as the sun begins to slide behind the hills, and the moment becomes simple, perfect, and all our own.
****
Dylan
We’ve been talking for nearly two hours about everything and nothing all at the same time, stories with no point, bad jokes, half-baked thoughts that are funny before they’ve even been fully thought out.
The sun is long gone, and the sky has turned all shades of navy blue and silver.
The moon is out, shining bright above the lake, its reflection twinkling on the water below.
The crickets chirp along the shore. Fireflies flash on and off in the tall grass and the trees, like miniature lights illuminating the darkness.
It’s a night when everything feels dreamlike.
Torin has a cigarette between his fingers, the tip glowing as he takes a hit.
Fawn’s cuddled up in my arms, and I lean my chin on top of her head.
Her smell fills my lungs as I think about how easily she went from being a girl I barely knew to a girl I could no longer imagine being without.
Out of nowhere, she shifts slightly. “You know, I’ve never been ice skating.”
Torin nearly chokes, coughing around his cigarette as he stares at her. “What? Never?”
She laughs awkwardly, tilting her head back far enough to catch my eye. “Yeah, I told you, I’ve got two left feet. Walking’s hard enough; mix that with ice . . .”
I smile, already envisioning it — her hanging onto the board, her eyes wide with fear. “We have to work on that,” I tell her, giving her a light squeeze.
“Oh God,” she groans, dropping her face into my chest. “You will have to hold me.”
“You don’t have to ask twice, princess.”
Torin leans in, elbow on knee, a smirk brewing at the corner of his mouth. “So you’re writing a book about ice hockey, and you know piss all about it?”
“Duh. That’s why she was interviewing us in the first place,” I say, slapping my forehead.
She shrugs a little, grinning. “Ice hockey is really big in the book world right now. Plus . . . you guys look hot as fuck, and sex sells.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I reach over and tickle her ribs, and she laughs in surprise, wriggling in my embrace and attempting to bat at me. Her laughter is infectious. I lean in slightly, lowering my voice like I’m telling a secret. “So, you think our sex would sell?”
“With your massive cocks . . . yes.” She laughs with a scoff, gasping, shaking her head as Torin watches us with this sly, amused expression.
“Listen, since you two have taken me out on dates, I wanted to take you out to dinner,” she says, her finger tracing slow circles on my knee. “There is a place at the edge of Ivywood that makes the best pasta.”
It’s just so authentic, the way she says that — like she wants to give something back, not out of obligation, but because she really wants to.
“I think I’ve heard of that place,” Torin says, nodding thoughtfully. “Never been, though. I heard there’s always a live band.”
All I want to do is spoil her, protect her. I want to be the one making plans, paying tabs, opening doors — making sure she feels cherished every single time we’re together. But if she wants to take charge for once, who am I to stop her?
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, a smile tugging at my mouth. “I think we should get all dressed up. Let’s make it an extra-special night.”
“I’d like that,” she replies.
The truth is, I haven’t been on a proper date since I was about seventeen. I remember it being awkward, the cheap food, nerves buzzing the whole time. This, however, feels different, grown, real.
Torin flicks the last shred of his cigarette away, putting it out on the dock. He gets up, rolling his shoulders, and Fawn follows, the moonlight spilling over her as if it were made just for her. For a moment, I watch them both — the grit and the strength of Torin, the softness of Fawn.
She playfully elbows Torin. “Wait, isn’t this the dock where you fell in?”
“Yup, that jackass shoved me,” Torin growls, gesturing directly at me.
I get up, hands raised in a gesture of innocence. “You were wasted, and if I remember, you were also dancing.”
Fawn begins to sway her hips with a playful, exaggerated motion. “Ooo, Torin likes a little dance, huh?”
Torin chuckles, the spark of danger lurking within his eyes. “Oh yeah? Let’s see how you like it, baby.”
In an instant, he scoops her up and tosses her into the lake.
There’s a tremendous splash, and her head disappears underwater.
When she comes up, she gasps for air, a look of shock etched on her face.
My breath cuts short. Heart lurching, hands going cold, the world narrowing to a single, suffocating point.
I know she can’t touch the bottom. It’s her fear.
“FAWN!” I shout. “Dude! She hates deep water!”
I don’t even think about it. My hands yank at my pants, pulling them down.
I take the plunge. The water swallows me whole, and the cold hits like a wall — merciless, stealing the breath straight from my lungs.
Fawn is treading water, but her expression gives her away: she is freaking out.
I reach her in seconds, wrapping an arm around her waist. She wraps her arms around my neck.
“It’s okay, princess. I’m here,” I murmur, holding her close, steadying us as the water ripples. “I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”
“Fuck! Fuck!” Torin yells from the dock, his voice full of fear.
“Are you always gonna save me?” her voice trembles, as we return to the dock.
I don’t hesitate. “Always, princess.”
She extends a shaky hand, and Torin seizes it, hauling her toward him. A tremor runs through her. The minute her feet make contact with the wood, Torin secures her with the blanket, cocooning her.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” he keeps saying, over and over. “I’m sorry.”
I drag myself up behind her, water streaming off me.
My heart beats furiously in my chest, adrenaline pumping through my veins, but all I can think about is her: the blanket around her, hair clumped to her cheeks, eyes wide with shock.
Torin is still apologizing, his hands shaking as he cups her face, searching for any sign of harm he might have caused.
“Torin, I’m okay,” she says, pulling the blanket up a little tighter around her. “I promise. You didn’t know I have a fear of deep water. If anything, I wanted to see Dylan wet.”
He exhales a shaky breath, and for a moment, relief seeps through the panic.
As she said, I’m soaked and painfully aware of it. I pull my wet underwear off and instinctively cup my balls, eyes flicking up to the sky without even thinking about it. Old habits die hard — especially after Mom reminded me. Grabbing my jeans, I yank them on in a hurry, heart still pounding.
Torin catches on immediately. He squints at me then snorts. “Dude, why are you cupping your balls like that? No one’s gonna steal them.”
“Mom reminded me of the—” I stop myself, a laugh bubbling up despite everything. “The inky winky bird.”
Torin nearly doubles over. “Fuck me! I totally forgot about that.”
Fawn’s eyebrows knit together as she looks at us. “The . . . inky . . . winky bird?”
Torin stands up straight, still grinning. “Dylan’s mom invented this creature called the inky winky bird. She said it was going to peck off his privates if he was nude outside.”
The laughter is winning. Fawn’s shoulders bounce with the effort of keeping it locked behind her lips.
“Ha. Ha,” I deadpan, pointing at them both. “Yes, very fucking funny. Laugh it up.”
“Oh, Dylan, never change.” She giggles.
I arch my brow. “I won’t. Besides, who would save you if I did?”
“You know, there’s going to be a point when I’m going to have to save you,” she says.
“Princess. If that day ever comes,” I reply, voice low and serious, “I’ll let you know.”
Torin’s voice is gentle but firm. “Let’s get you out of that wet clothing. You can wear one of our shirts.” He bends down to grab one.
Drawing closer, I reach to lift the blanket off her shoulders.
Her white shirt is now transparent from the water, stuck to her body in all the right places.
She reaches out for the edge of her shorts, her fingers curling around it, then pauses.
For the briefest moment, I see that glimmer of doubt cross her face.
“Princess,” I say, trying to sound reassuring, “no one’s here. It’s only us.”