Chapter 39 Birdie
Birdie
I flip open the binder that Dawsen made for me. The title page says, “Our Book of Secrets.” The first page has a receipt taped onto it. It’s from Nook & Novel. It’s dated back about eight years ago. The single item purchased is a book I know all too well.
Post Secret
I suck in a breath when I see Dawsen’s handwriting scrawled underneath the receipt—
“I’ve been paying attention to you for as long as I can remember. I hold onto every word you’ve ever said to me, and it led me here. I figured since I’ve sort of stolen all of your secrets, I’d give you some of mine.”
I look up at this man, standing in the middle of my messy bedroom in my parents house. He looks nervous, he looks adorable, and he looks downright sexy.
I flip through each page, to reveal almost every secret I ever sent or deposited into that damn post box. Under each one, Dawsen has written a secret of his own. For each one of mine, one of his. It’s equal parts precious and heart-wrenching.
He left no stone unturned. His secrets were heavy.
Some light, but so much of his life has been laced with pain, yearning, and feeling inadequate.
Whether it was sports in high school, and feeling like an imposter, or the heartbreak he felt watching me attend my junior prom with Dean Lusko.
Or his admission into carrying the blame of his mother’s death.
There are tears coming now. With each one of my secrets, he shares his own. The thought behind this.
“I hope you don’t mind—I’ve been having Mira save all your submissions for me. She’s pretty much the only one who knows how I’ve felt about you all this time.”
“Come here.” I say simply, setting the binder beside me. I reach out for his hands as he approaches me. He’s hovering over me as I’m still sitting on my bed.
He drops his head and my voice turns emotional. “Please set all of this down. You’re so incredible, Dawsen. You need to set all of this down.”
He kneels down in front of me, our eyes level, his hands graze my thighs back and forth, like he’s looking for the words.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure all of this out.” He grabs my hands and brings them to his face. I run them to the back of his head and take note of how my fingertips feel running through his thick locks.
We sit here for a few moments, it’s intimate, it’s a moment of rest, like we’ve both been released from years of wanting each other, and we’re finally having each other.
I tip his chin up to me, and I lean in, our lips barely brushing. “You’re kind of a stalker, you know that?” I say, teasing him.
“Yeah, I’m surprised Mira didn’t rat me out to you like a million times.”
I smile and can’t stand being this close and not kissing him.
I crash my lips into his and we turn heated.
Soon we’re just limbs tangled, tongues exploring.
We’re like high school kids rolling around in my bed.
His hands are in my hair, and I can feel him grow hard beneath me.
My core is on fire, and I start to shift my hips back and forth against him.
He lets out a pained groan, “Baby, wait.” He’s smiling, panting, and it makes me lick my lips.
“Shit.” I say, as I hear footsteps coming down the hall. We both jump off the bed like it was on fire. I’m adjusting my dress, patting down my hair, and Dawsen reaches down the front of his pants to adjust himself, and my eyes go wide. He notices and smirks at me.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Stop fucking around and come eat.” I hear Casey’s voice on the other side of the door, and I’ve never been so grateful to not hear one of my parents on the other side of that door.
“Do you think they’re going to know that we were making out?” I ask, nervous.
Dawsen walks over to me, and brings his thumb to the corner of my lips and swipe his finger, like he’s fixing my lipstick. Then he bends down and kisses that same spot.
“Yeah, probably.” He says with a grin. Then adds, as he takes my hand. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
* * *
We make it through dinner, and to my delight, there were only two subtle jokes about Dawsen and I sneaking away to my bedroom.
One was from River, asking if I was showing Dawsen what I had taped into my bedside table drawer.
The second was Crawford Jones of all people, asking me if his son was being a gentleman, or if he needed a reprimanding.
Loved that.
We all moved into the living room once the plates were cleared.
It’s the Banks Christmas tradition to sit around the tree enjoying after dinner drinks, mom usually dishes up some sort of dessert, and dad plays music.
We chat, we laugh and we honestly just soak up each other’s company.
It’s always been one of my favorite things about Christmas.
These moments right here. The ones that from the outside don’t seem very spectacular, but when you’re in it, when you’re immersed in that living room surrounded by the people who love you most in the world, it’s the closest thing to heaven on earth.
It’s definitely heaven in Saddlebrooke, that’s for sure.
Mom and dad are cuddled up on the love seat near the fireplace, both with wine in hand.
Crawford is sitting in the yellow wing back chair near the front bay window.
He’s holding a glass of bourbon and talking to River about the ranch and how he’s propositioning to have some repairs done on the stables.
Casey is sitting on the ground with her glass of wine and giving her two cents in between River’s breaths.
I’m sitting on the couch, curled up next to Dawsen Jones.
We’re just quiet, listening to the crackle of the fireplace, and the hum of voices.
His lips are pressed into my hair, and I feel so safe.
I’ve never felt so at peace as I do in this moment right here.
I glance over at my mom and see her looking at me.
Her face has a sweet, kind expression. It’s then that I know she knows how I’m feeling.
She nuzzles in closer to dad and gives me a sweet, knowing wink.
Like she sees my life coming together, slowly, surely, and in a way I’ve always wanted.
You never know what you’re going to get when dad’s in charge of the music, but tonight I’ve been pleasantly surprised. It’s been mostly jazz, some nostalgic Christmas songs, and only one Jimmy Buffet song, to all of our delight.
Nora Jones, “Come Away With Me” starts playing, and my mom audibly gasps. She loves this song. So do I. I mean, how could anyone not like it?
Dawsen straightens, making me shift also. He leans down and whispers into my hair, “Dance with me, Birdie Banks?” I blush. And I oblige.
He stands from the couch and extends his hand out to me. I put my hand in his and he leads me just a few steps into the center of the room. He pulls me in close and seconds later, he’s got one hand wrapped around my waist and the other is weaved through my fingers.
We giggle at everyone ‘Ooing and Awing” around us. Even though Dawsen and I both believe we kept our feelings hidden pretty well, it would seem that we didn’t really have anyone fooled except for ourselves.
As we sway back and forth, I rest my head against his chest. I can feel his heart beating. I’ve longed for this closeness for so long. It feels as though we’ve finally been given permission to act on every instinct, desire, and feeling we’ve had locked up in the cages of our hearts.
There’s something so odd, yet so satisfying about going from what we’ve always been, to two people exploring and learning each other so intimately within a matter of days.
I’m lost in my thoughts of our history and every decision and choice that has led us to this very moment when I feel Dawsen’s hand come to the side of my face.
He brushes my bangs behind my ear, and drags his knuckles softly across my cheek.
His eyes are looking into mine, like my eyes hold the answers to everything.
“I love you, Birdie. I know that seems fast, but I’ve loved you for so damn long and I don’t want to waste anymore time.
” His knuckles, still brushing my face softly.
I reach up and hold his hand, staring back into those eyes.
Those dazzling eyes. “I love you, Dawsen Jones. Always have. Everything else has just been killing time.” I wink, and he smiles and then leans down and places the most tender kiss to my lips.
We stay there for just a moment. I’ve almost forgot that we have an audience when applause breaks out.
Everyone bursts into a fit of laughter.
“Nora Jones. Works every time.” My dad pipes up proudly, and I see my mom give him a playful punch to his arm.
“I don’t want to know what you mean by that, dad.” River says, shielding his eyes like he’s disgusted.
“If you ever stop dicking around, maybe I’ll queue up some Nora Jones for you too someday, son.” My dad retorts.
“Thanks for that, Jack.” Dawsen nods at dad, and they both give each other a knowing smirk.
* * *
About three days ago, I could never have imagined my Christmas Eve playing out the way it has. I never imagined Dawsen professing his love to me in my parent’s living room.
I’ve not been sure of much lately, but I’m sure that I want life to feel like this forever.
I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life yet.
I’m still a thirty year old, unemployed virgin living in my parents house, but for the first time in a long time I actually feel hopeful.
I don’t know what’s on the horizon, but I have a pretty good feeling about who’s going to be around me while I figure it out, and that’s bringing me solace.
* * *