18. Birds of a Feather
THE CIVIL WARS
18
BIRDS OF A FEATHER
The wipers swiped aggressively back and forth across the windshield, fighting against the summer downpour they’d been stuck in all day. Dakota watched them with wonder, lost in the motion and in the thought that those two flimsy wipers were the only piece of this car that still worked properly. How was that even possible?
How had he made it across an entire state and a half in this decrepit piece of now-stalled-out equipment? With its soggy, barley-hanging-on, cardboard window, the ceiling fabric hanging just over his head, a nearly diabetic cat along for the ride, and the vexing woman at his side, who had her feet resting on the dash… again.
Not that it mattered, since they hadn’t moved—or spoken, for that matter—in the last hour.
Sadie stared, notably silent, out of her foggy window, absentmindedly tapping her painted toes against the dash. Every fiber of Dakota’s attention narrowed in on the movement and, in turn, to the words so delicately tattooed down the side of her foot. Time will explain.
Jane Austen.
He wanted to growl. Another book quote. Another piece of this woman he wished he didn’t find so appealing. Like her insane book collection or the way she sang every word to every song, correct or not. The mosaic of tattoos littered across her caramel skin. Her wide, open-mouthed laugh and the tremor of excitement it gave Dakota every time he heard it. Even now, as Sadie stewed in anger, he loved the way her jaw clenched when he knew she wanted to ring his neck.
And deservedly so.
He was mad for her… and he was, in truth, mad that he wanted her so badly.
He asked himself again, How is that even possible?
“Are you ever gonna say somethin’?” Sadie asked without turning away from her fixed gaze on the window.
“I’m not sure what else I should say here, Edwin.” Her middle name. That would surely get her to look at him.
She flinched, whipping her curly, wrap-covered head around, completely seething. Mission accomplished.
But, after a beat, Dakota saw what he knew Sadie would deny if he mentioned it. Tears. Real and actual tears, filling her big, brown eyes, mixed with fury and hurt.
His sisters were right. He was completely clueless.
Without thinking—again—he reached out for her. “Sadie, I’m… I’m sorry. Maybe we should…”
She pulled her hand away, jostling Gus who lay nestled in her lap and, up until that point, had been the one happy occupant in the car.
“It’s fine, Dakota. Really. I’m just… It’s so hot in here. I need some air.” Averting her eyes again, she began to roll down the window, despite the downpour, obviously forgetting that the day before they’d had to pull the window up by hand and sheer will power when the rain had begun.
“Don’t!” He tried to warn her, but too late, as the window crashed down into its frame, leaving a giant void for the rain to blister into at an angle. Offended by the onslaught, Gus hissed suddenly, dug his pink-painted nails into Sadie’s bare legs, and arched his back. Every orange hair on his over-sized body stood at attention before he let out a haunting howl then launched himself out the open window.
In just a few swift moments, three things seemed to happen all at once.
Sadie’s tears transformed into full blown sobs as she shoved open the door—ripping off the inner handle in the process and throwing it behind her on the abandoned seat—in her pursuit of Gus… the runaway cat.
The storm picked up to pre-hurricane levels of precipitation and wind, compounding the already fair amount of flooding from the broken window… on the door with the broken handle… still miraculously attached to the outside of the broken car.
And, helplessly discombobulated by the entire day, Dakota jumped into the storm, following after the woman he couldn’t seem to stop chasing.
“Sadie!” he yelled. “You’re gonna get yourself struck by lightning!”
She ignored him, of course, just as she had after he’d laid his entire heart out on the offering table of her deceased vehicle, leaving it to float pathetically in the universe forever.
“I want you…” He rolled his eyes just thinking about it, still chasing her around the cement building as she chased the cat he’d just had to bring along. The cat that was decidedly not bringing them closer together.
“Please stop! He'll come back if you stop running after him!” he shouted over the rain. “Remember, tender love is fine… and all that.”
“Tender love is blind.” Sadie paused near a line of trees, her hair and clothes soaked. Looking like nothing but a drowned cat herself. Completely defeated.
He stopped, too, rain streaming over his face. “Same thing,” he called.
“You said too much, Kota,” she said, huffing with exertion and hands clenched at her sides. “It hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing to me!” She wiped her face, trying and failing to wipe away the tears and rain splattering across her cheeks. “The tension and flowers and the tattoo touchin’. The cheek-kissin’... All the gestures. That beautiful library,” she sobbed. “It's too much. And now I don’t know how to… to let go of it all.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Dakota moved an inch closer, lowering his voice just enough over the rain. “I know you carry so much. But you don’t have to do it alone. Remember? You don’t have to be afraid. Not of me. Never of me. We’ll figure it all out together.”
She nodded, closing her eyes.
“I want to try,” she whispered, but Dakota heard every syllable. “I should have said something back to you, but I couldn’t. And now I have this new crushing fear that I’m going to lose you, too. But, Kota, I want to try.”
He stepped closer. “My parents adore you. My sisters have claimed you. You won’t lose any of them. And definitely not me. Not a chance.” He paused. “The truth is Sadie… I love you. I have loved you for so long it’s driven me near crazy pretendin’ not to. But all this time—wanting you, loving you—I’ve known… you’re mine.”
Sadie gasped.
Dakota's words echoed in the storm around them.
You’re mine. Mine…
He heard the petulant child Sadie had accused him of being, and yet it didn’t make it any less true. It was the very truth he felt rushing through his veins every time he was even simply in her orbit. Every time she commanded a room with her presence or let herself laugh unabashedly with his sisters. The way she spoke about her parents and when her God-given wisdom shone through with advice or encouragement. The way she could effortlessly offer the Colonel a hug, or share a recipe with his mama, and turn around in the same breath to put him in his place. More than anything he’d ever wanted, Dakota was desperate for this woman—for Sadie—to be his.
He rushed to her before she could change her mind. Closing the distance between them before she could think of a single reason not to, and took her face in his hands, crashing his lips into hers. He nudged her towards a tree, finding momentary reprieve from the downpour, and bracketed her in against its side.
Kissing Sadie was bursts of sunshine and vanilla and those bright red strawberries she’d tortured him with for the last hour. It was a fuse lit three years before when he’d seen her for the first time and felt an undeniable tug in his spirit, burning along a live wire and finally, finally igniting, shooting into the air in an explosion of color.
Allowing himself to fully touch her skin, after so much time carefully avoiding doing so, was like feeling the warmth of the summer sun on his face. Perfect peace and contentment, yet exhilarating. He could lie in that warmth all day, recharging and igniting all over again.
Rather than protest, or the contrarian push-back he normally received from her, Sadie grasped his soaked shirt, twisting it in her hands, and pulled him closer. She released the slightest whimper but met him tit for tat, nipping his lip, adjusting their angle, and then deepening the kiss.
“I'm still friendlier than you,” she said between breaths, wedging herself into his arms again.
“Sure. Yes. You win. The loft’s yours.” He didn’t need oxygen anymore. No need for trivial functions like breathing or consistent heart rates. Not while Sadie’s mouth was connected to his. Hopefully forever.
He grabbed her waist, pulling her closer, and allowed himself three more perfect beats of bliss, kissing the lips he’d known would be soft and sweet and absolutely addictive. No way would he ever get enough now. Dakota laughed against her quiet, surprised sigh before drawing back—out of breath, heart racing—and rested his forehead against hers.
“Tender love is fine, Sadie Girl. Just fine.”
She snorted and hummed the rest of the line against his lips, just as Gus meandered over, rubbing himself in an endless loop around their legs.
Afraid to break their connection and worried she’d dive back too far into her beautiful brain, Dakota kept his hands on her face, brushing his thumbs against her warm, wet cheeks.
“Please, be mine,” he whispered. A plea and a prayer. “Say you want more, too.”
I know she’s Yours, but Lord, please… let her be mine, too.
Like a swift answer to that prayer—and no small miracle—Sadie simply nodded her response, her forehead still resting on his, and finally said, “Yes, Kota. I see you, too.”