Chapter Fifteen #4
“Very serious. Wilder and Frankie are negotiating chip distribution.”
“You are abandoning me.”
“I am empowering you.”
“I will remember this.”
“I hope so. It’s generous.”
She fled before I could stop her.
Crew sat on the blanket beside me.
Not too close.
A respectful fireworks gap.
Across the lawn, Tom noticed.
Of course.
He lifted one hand.
I waved back.
Crew followed my gaze.
“He looks good.”
“He looks tired.”
“Both.”
“Did he eat?”
“Yes.”
“Hydrate?”
“Yes.”
“Complain?”
“Constantly.”
“Good.”
The sun had dipped low, turning the sky peach and gold. The first fireflies blinked near the tree. Kids ran with glow sticks. Someone tested the speaker and announced fireworks would begin in fifteen minutes.
My stomach tightened.
Crew did not comment.
He opened the cooler and handed me a water.
“Hydration,” he said.
“Not romance.”
His mouth curved.
“Never.”
I took it.
Our fingers brushed.
The touch did not jolt this time.
It warmed.
That was worse.
We sat quietly while the crowd settled.
The Spitfires were close enough to be visible but far enough that they pretended not to watch us.
Badly.
Frankie had binoculars.
Sutton took them away.
Crew sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Your friends are weird.”
“Yes.”
“They’re also loyal.”
“Yes.”
“That’s annoying.”
“Yes.”
“Stop agreeing.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
The smile we shared felt small and private in the middle of hundreds of people.
The first firework launched with a whistle.
My shoulders tensed before the boom.
Crew saw.
He did not reach.
He did not say, You okay?
He did not make a thing of it.
He simply set his hand palm-up on the blanket between us.
Not touching me.
Not asking out loud.
A door.
My throat tightened.
The firework cracked overhead.
I flinched.
My hand moved before pride could stop it.
I set my fingers in his.
Crew’s hand closed gently around mine.
No squeeze.
No claim.
Just there.
The sky bloomed red above us.
Then blue.
Then white.
The crowd cheered.
I breathed.
The second boom came.
This time, I did not flinch as hard.
Crew’s thumb moved once along my knuckle.
A question.
I did not pull away.
The fireworks opened across the sky, loud and bright and impossible to hold. The first blasts still made my nerves jump, but Crew’s hand stayed steady, and somehow the steady did not feel like a trap.
It felt like a choice I could keep making.
One boom at a time.
I looked up at the lights.
“You remember,” I said softly.
Crew’s gaze stayed on the sky.
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
A pause.
Then, “Too much.”
My hand tightened in his.
His tightened back, just enough.
I looked at him.
The red light of a firework washed over his face.
Then green.
Then gold.
He was looking at me now.
Not at the sky.
“Crew.”
“I’m not leaving tomorrow night,” he said.
“I know.”
“And Monday isn’t goodbye.”
“I know.”
“I’m coming back.”
I swallowed.
“You said.”
“I’ll keep saying it until it becomes boring.”
My eyes burned.
“Nothing about you is boring. Unfortunately.”
His mouth curved.
The next firework bloomed huge and gold overhead, lighting the whole park.
For one second, I saw all of him.
Fear.
Hope.
Regret.
Want.
And restraint.
Always restraint now.
Waiting for me.
Letting me choose.
I was so tired of choosing fear first.
So, with the whole town looking at the sky for once, I leaned toward him.
Not far.
Just enough.
Crew went still.
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Then back to my eyes.
“Marin,” he whispered.
I hated that he was giving me one more chance to stop.
I loved that he was.
“I swear,” I whispered, “if anyone films this, I’m leaving the state.”
His breath caught.
A laugh almost broke through.
Then I closed the last inch and kissed him.
Not for the town.
Not for the hashtag.
Not for the roof.
For me.
For the girl who had loved him.
For the woman who still wanted to know who he was now.
For the Fourth of July sky and the fear I was tired of obeying.
Crew did not grab.
Did not take.
For one heartbeat, he let me set the kiss.
Then his hand lifted slowly to my cheek, giving me every chance to move away.
I did not.
His palm touched my face.
Warm.
Careful.
Reverent.
The kiss deepened by one breath.
One beautiful, aching breath.
Then another firework cracked overhead, and I startled against him.
He pulled back immediately.
“Okay?”
I laughed softly because of course that was the first word.
“Yes.”
His forehead rested near mine.
Not touching.
Almost.
“Okay,” he said.
The sky exploded purple above us.
The crowd cheered.
Somewhere behind us, Frankie made a muffled sound that was immediately silenced by Sutton, probably by force.
I did not look.
Neither did Crew.
For once, nobody got to have the moment except us.
At least for five seconds.
Then my phone buzzed.
I froze.
Crew froze.
Slowly, I pulled it from my pocket.
A text from Talia.
Talia: I tackled Frankie. You’re welcome.
I stared.
Then burst out laughing against Crew’s shoulder.
He looked at the message and laughed too.
The whole sky shook with fireworks.
The town cheered.
And Crew Donnelly held my hand like he knew this was not the ending.
Not yet.
Just a beginning that had finally learned how to ask.