'Sweet tea in the summer

Cross your heart, won't tell no other

...

Love you to the moon and to Saturn

Passed down like folk songs

The love lasts so long.'

Blue and red were all I saw on our way back, as the sun was setting in a mesmerizing gradation, and as if even nature were sensing it, it disappeared right when the large sign appeared on the horizon.

Subrose, the town welcomes you for a lovely stay.

It didn't look like it to me when everything I'd tried to escape was racing before my eyes, faster than the scenery, and I didn't even know how my shaky fingers could point the familiar streets.

But we were already one turn away from the destination when I announced, "Stop here."

Once the whirring of the engine ceased, I was met by a lifted eyebrow and a curious gaze focused on me, well on me and on the small church besides us, as it traveled questioningly between the two.

From the word 'sinner' I glimpsed on his forearm, it was clear Blade wasn't used to this kind of place.

"I live down the next street, but I wouldn't want us both to get killed if my mom saw me arriving on a motorbike," I explained, getting off the saddle and nodding farther along the road, though his eyebrow didn't come down at the sight of the houses all looking the same, and surrounded by white fences, of course.

I could imagine what he was thinking through his clear eyes.

He didn't comment about it, however, and instead, he once more helped me forget with a simple shrug and a smirk. "I'm used to living dangerously."

The mysterious and still mischievous twinkle in his gaze was tickling me to ask him to tell me more about it, even show me, but it was surely to postpone the inevitable.

"I don't think to this point..." I offered him a smile, only one corner of my lips lifting. I wasn't totally smiling, just like I wasn't totally joking.

"And here... I think it's safer." I pulled out the first item my fingers had found again at the thought of the chaos waiting for me, pushing it into his tattooed hand when he didn't take it.

Still, he didn't give a glance at the automatic gun, all his attention and piercing blue intensity focusing on me.

He probably had so many questions about the petite girl with an 'ordinary' life who could shoot like Lucky Luke, and what she had wanted to escape on her 18th birthday. Yet he didn't voice them out loud.

Something told me he, himself, liked to keep his secrets, or maybe he just didn't care.

"Happy birthday, Shooting star." He offered one more Cheshire cat's smile, and I took it as a cue for me to leave.

Not that he made me feel like it though, and as my gaze lifted one last time to his, where the infinite expanse of water was now clearer, contrasting with the darkness outside, I could have easily drowned in a search of what to say there.

A 'thank you' appeared futile, and it obviously wasn't his thing. Besides, I liked the echo of his last words, and I wanted them to be the last ones resonating between us. It sounded better than a proper farewell for our unique encounter.

So since actions were better than a thousand words—at least for my dry lips—I stood on my tiptoes and left a soft kiss on his cheek, right on his scarred dimple.

The expanse of icy blue expanding slightly was the last thing I saw before I turned around and headed towards the row of 'ordinary' houses without another glance.

I knew that if I did, I would run back there and ask him to make me forget forever, which wasn't possible, or at least, it was too much 'nothing' to ask.

For all that, the thought still crossed my mind, more and more with each step, which became harder and harder to take, and I wondered how I could walk when the pull on all my muscles was as tearing as fighting a gravitational force or facing a tempest.

Maybe his kiss had instilled in me an incredible strength, though I dreaded it wouldn't be enough when the unmistakable roar of the engine disappeared in the faraway.

From now on, there was no turning back possible, and ironically, it was at the turn of my street.

Blade Sayer was gone, and with him, Lucy Lucas and Ford Wels too.

I had no escape, and one more crack appeared in the fragile dam keeping the chaos inside my chest. It was back fully, the overflow and emptiness at the same time, the heartwrenching pain and numbness, when I was barely passing the white gate. 

My gaze automatically found the tall oak tree on the side, standing between the two perfectly similar houses, and as the crack was this time deep in my heart, I looked over my shoulder in a hopeless attempt to meet a Cheshire's smile, a too clear gaze for its wicked intentions, an evil genie... Yet there was only an endless maze of the ordinary suburb, and no way for me to get away.

I could only walk ahead, slower than I'd ever treaded the pathway to our front porch, though it still was too fast when I stood in front of the white door.

Contrary to the wobbly door of the green hut, I had time to take a breath and try to prepare for what was behind. However, it did nothing more when I pushed on the handle.

The sight meeting me was exactly as I'd imagined, well, one of the many I'd pictured: too many people waiting for me.

Still, my eyes were drawn to only one of them.

There he was, as handsome as ever despite his crinkled shirt and messed brown curls, which I didn't even try to guess from what, and despite the flashbacks bombarding me, I hated the rush in my veins to run into his arms, and even more the jump of my heart threatening to crack the barrier holding the overflow inside.

"Dorothea Duncan."

I'd never liked as much to hear my full name, even though it was the opposite of the smooth sound rolling out of Blade's lips. At least, it was saving me one inch away from meeting Spencer's gaze and the deluge that would come with it.

Well, maybe I'd spoken too soon when I'd said 'saving' because when I turned my blurry eyes to my mom, even the tears that I desperately tried to blink away couldn't dim the clear daggers of her glare.

"Where have you been? Oh my gosh! And what have you done to your dress?!"

Oh right, I had forgotten this detail, surely thanks to someone's magic that was still taking effect, even if just a little.

"Um... I just had a little accident." I shrugged.

After all, it was one way to call it, although it didn't soften my mom as her gasps echoed around, followed by a moment of silence where she was probably questioning what she had done to get a disgraceful daughter like me, and maybe also if I had been switched at birth.

It was surely the question on everyone's mind as no one opened their mouth to add anything, or even take a breath.

They were staring at the attraction.

My mom and I both had red hair, green eyes, and clear dresses, yet as we were standing face to face, her arms crossed over her chest and my fingers twiddling together, we couldn't be more different, and it wasn't only because of the few wrinkles accentuated by the wrath on her features.

My hair had always been a shade brighter than my mom's and my sister's, who had discreet and elegant ginger strands, and in this instant, the tangled and unruly curls were making the bold orange stand out even more.

It was the same for my bottle-green eyes, surely highlighted by the red puffiness, and my mom's pale jade, narrowed ones, and it wasn't necessary to mention my tattered outfit and her dress, not even crumpled by a crease, despite the boiling state she seemed to be in.

"A little accident?! Where were you? You disappeared from your party and left all your guests behind? Do you realize how disrespectful it was?" She was shooting the questions at me so fast that I couldn't even utter a word, and I stayed silent anyway.

I had learned long ago that it was more 'respectful', and mostly, it brought fewer problems.

"We didn't raise you like that! Do you imagine the shame for us when all your guests were waiting for you? And you come back saying you had 'a little accident' as if it was nothing?!"

At this point, I was impressed she still hadn't taken a breath, and we had at least one thing in common because I could clearly see her freckles appearing more and more on her cheeks.

"We looked for you in the whole town, and we were worried sick! We were about to call the police, if it hadn't been for Spencer." She briefly glanced at Raymond and Spencer, who were sitting in the armchair in the left corner, but my eyes only followed to the latter, who averted his gaze down to the armrest underneath him.

"You're lucky..." I didn't hear the rest.

'Lucky', 'Spencer', I didn't know which word was the final blow to shatter the dam, but there was nothing holding the overflow rising inside, and like a wave breaker, nothing could stop it.

Strangely, there were no tears though. They were evaporating and turning into thick steam under the boiling fire inside.

'Lucky' that I had 'Spencer'?! I'd just spent one of the worst days of my life, and Spencer was the main reason for it. Though, of course, he hadn't told them the reason behind my run away.

I wanted to scream it to their faces, even if I doubted it would change anything as I glanced around.

As my gaze had cleared, I could take in more distinctly all those eyes on me, all these people scattered around the living room to watch the attraction.

There were Spencer and his dad, my mom, who was still rambling, while my dad was on the contrary, silent, probably preparing my punishment. But that wasn't all.

There were also my godmother, Shirley, whose reasons to be here I was wondering, as I'd only seen her about three times in my whole life, and finally, the grandparents Duncan, to whom I gave a perfect example of the 'decadent youth'—and they didn't know what I'd done this afternoon.

They would probably have had a heart attack seeing Blade's tattoos. Unless it would be my mom, as she still hadn't taken a breath, repeating the same things over and over again, from what I'd managed to hear through the growing chaos inside.

"I had fun, thanks. Isn't it what everyone should be worried about on my birthday?" I interrupted her sermon with what looked to be a remain of Lucy Lucas, the corner of my lips lifting up in a humorless rictus that wasn't mine either.

"Not that anyone cares about what I want..." This mutter under my breath was Dorothy Duncan's, however, and I was quickly silenced when my dad moved to join my mom in front of me.

"Enough! Watch your tone, young lady."

He wasn't much taller than my mom as he'd taken his hat off, and it wasn't the few hairs remaining on his balding head that were adding inches, yet in this instant, his calm attitude and deep frown were much more imposing than anyone in the room, and I could only open and close my mouth with no more arguments than earlier today.

"I..."

"You're grounded. Go to your room."

I didn't try to argue this time, my head lowering with the weight of everything falling back on my shoulders, and also to avoid my gaze from wandering around.

I needed to get away before...

"D... can we talk?"

I had barely taken two steps in the direction of the stairs when my head snapped up to find his familiar silhouette in front of me, and if the mere sound of his low voice had so much control over my body, I couldn't imagine what would happen if he used his way with words to get to my heart.

In fact, a simple look of his chocolate brown eyes could reach there, and that was why I made sure to fix the hypnotizing circular patterns on the wallpaper behind him as I cut him off,

"Haven't you heard? I'm grounded. I can't talk."

This was probably the lamest excuse I'd ever used, especially with Spencer, who knew better than anyone else all the times I'd got around my groundings.

But I didn't know him anymore, so I didn't wait for his reply, bypassing him, and carefully avoiding any contact with a part of him, in spite of the attraction pulling on all my muscles.

"DD... I..."

"Don't worry, leave her time. She'll calm down."

I heard my mom's advice, followed by a sigh that I recognized as Spencer's when I was finally reaching the first steps of the stairs.

'Calm down', I could have laughed if my chest hadn't been already torn apart, and instead, it was tears that escaped.

'Calm down', I doubted the chaos would ever calm down. The wound was too deep, too close to my heart, and after a few hours, it had only got worse.

When I stepped on the last step of the stairs, the tears were overflowing as if I hadn't already cried my eyes out this afternoon, and when I passed my bedroom door, I collapsed against it.

I could pretend I was someone else; I could pretend I was fine. But in the end, I was still Dorothy Duncan, and I'd been betrayed by the person I loved the most in this entire universe.

Nothing could ever make me forget this fact that was sinking deeper and deeper with each passing second.

After only a few, I couldn't stand the agony inside my chest, and I lifted desperately my head from the clasp of my arms to find any escape.

There wasn't any, on the contrary, and it was a devious mystery how despite the incessant tears, I caught so clearly the large brown bag and the folded sheet of paper in the middle of my bed.

Only one person who could have put it here, and my fingers knew it very well as they were already reaching for it.

How had I managed to stand up on my wobbly legs? Well, I hadn't, as I was crawling, and when I processed what I was doing, I ripped the half-unfolded piece of paper, on which my blurry eyes had already caught the word 'Dear'.

He didn't have the right to lure me with his smooth words and fine letters. It was too easy for him, and nothing he could say or write would erase the haunting images replaying again and again before my blurred eyes.

Besides, just the thought that he'd written this with the engraved pen I'd offered him was an unbearable reminder that everything I'd been so sure of had only ever been lies.

The letter was in the same shredded state as my heart when I'd barely started enumerating the reasons why I couldn't read it, and I quickly threw it on the floor with the bag of chocolates, tearing my gaze away before my shaky fingers could try to put the pieces back together.

Because it was as useless and desperate as for the shards of my broken heart.

Sadly, I rapidly realized that Spencer knew me too well—even though the other way around wasn't true—and he'd anticipated how impulsive I was, with a large sign that met my gaze the second it unconsciously trailed there.

'DD, I'm sorry. Please, let me explain.

This is not what you–'

I couldn't tear the large cardboard on his window. Thus, I did the only thing I could, closing my curtains with a rough tug and cursing myself for having asked my dad to remove the shutters because 'I didn't see their use'.

Now, I did.

Spencer and Dorothy weren't forever, and the few feet separating our windows, which had appeared insurmountable growing up, were suddenly narrowing and suffocating.

Every breath was becoming harrowing, every inhale adding to the overflow, and every exhale following too quickly leaving me with emptiness. Yet I had no escape. I was stuck in this room, where everything was a reminder of Spencer.

It was like I couldn't get rid of his mark, no matter how hard I tried, and I tried.

Despite my frantic gasps and torrential tears, I rushed everywhere around the room to remove every imprint of him, and I had never realized how deep Spencer was etched in my life until I found myself taking off all his photos on the wall, throwing them on a heap in the center of the room, along with jewelry, cuddly toys, tee-shirts, board games, and even school notebooks where his handwriting was in every corner.

In no time, it looked like a tornado had stricken around the room, the chaos I held inside finally coming out, and the pale walls and furniture getting emptied faster and faster.

Every time I glimpsed an 'I love you', I could hear the echo of a 'too perfect to be true'. Every foolish smile appeared so foreign to my teary eyes, and every piece of fabric impregnated with a spicy scent brought back the image of his naked skin covered with my cousin's body.

As for his eyes... I stopped for a second in front of the only photo in color, and the amber reflections were so different from what I'd remembered. It made me question every time I'd dived into them. Had they ever been sincere?

To think that just yesterday I'd been so sure. I didn't know what was worse: that I was so cluelessly in love, the crash always harsher when you didn't have time to prepare and catch yourself, or that I'd not only been heartbroken by my lover, but also betrayed by my best friend because Spencer was my boyfriend, my confidant, my best friend, my safe place, my everything.

Actually, the worst was that because of all of this, I would have been willing to give him everything if he'd just asked me. I understood that he was now a man with needs, yet if he'd just come to me, if he hadn't stopped me many times...

But no, he'd chosen to go to someone else, my own cousin instead, and it added another sensation to the overwhelming deluge inside. Every piece of my broken heart was shriveling like a worthless nothing.

I wasn't good enough for my everything.

I shook frantically my head as if it would stop the same flashbacks attacking me, and the white frame landed on top of the heap on the floor, while I went back to tear off Spencer's mark with even more rage.

It was as blinding and burning as the tears.

I was angry at him for treating me like this, and even more, for trying to make me forgive him. However, I also was furious at myself for being so foolishly in love, even now, and mostly, my enraged movements were from the pain, like a wounded animal becoming dangerously aggressive.

I was a caged animal between four walls covered in Spencer, although it was less and less as the minutes passed, and nothing could stop me.

Nothing except one person, and I froze when I took in the piece of paper almost ripped in my hand.

Every bullet thrown carelessly was followed by blood. Every action had its consequence.

My impulsive fingers and their destructive wrath, the many shots I'd tried to get everything out... I was the one bleeding now, an incessant flow of tears and a numbing pain that I doubted would ever heal as I fell down on my bed. The piece of paper to my chest and my back to the window, the bleeding of tears continued quietly, and when sleep slowly took over, a few drops were still running along my cheeks.

***

My small legs led me with great determination towards the back door, the tip of my fingers grazing every item on their way from the worn-out armchair to the edge of the desk always cluttered with too many papers, and finally, the stiff door handle that I'd learned to fiddle with.

I grinned to myself as I'd managed to not make a crack echo my sneaky escape before I remembered there was no one in the house. So I stopped for a second by the doorway to catch my breath and glance back at the place I loved so much.

It wasn't a princess castle, far from it. It resembled more a hidden refuge for outlaws in the middle of the wood. But it was one of my refuges too.

"Dorothy!"

My head jerked in the direction of the familiar voice, my feet resuming their course faster until I reached the tall figure, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.

I didn't understand the hole in my chest spurring me to tighten my embrace when I'd just seen him a few hours ago, but I gladly welcomed the warmth of his hug.

"So Little gem, did you finish your homework?"

"Yes." I lifted my big green eyes to the ones just a shade lighter, as if they had been washed out by the years, though they still held a bright twinkle as they narrowed at me, and I sighed. "Almost."

I really had to practice my innocent expression!

"There's only the English lesson remaining."

"Oh, then I'll help you with that." He ruffled the top of my hair, and my smile was back.

I would have the best grade if I had his help.

"But first, I think we have to go back to what we started yesterday?"

I finally noticed the hand he was keeping behind his back, and the weight in my stomach made my smile fall on one side. "Mom said it wasn't right... I can't—"

"Your mom doesn't have to know. It can be our secret." His green eyes were at my height as he kneeled down, and I could catch the daring glint I'd inherited there.

I pretended to lock my lips with an invisible key that I threw over my shoulder, and when I looked down a real object was waiting in the palm in front of me.

The metal was way too large for my fingers, yet I grabbed the item expertly without a hint of fear in the shivers following.

"Why does she say it's bad?" My movements froze for a second as I realized I'd spoken my thoughts out loud. It was a bad habit of mine, but it was so easy in the silence of nature around. It was like the birds and crickets were echoing and agreeing with my thoughts.

Yes, we knew a gun was dangerous, but most of my friends had learned to use it with their dads, so why my dress would make it different?

"It's her way of caring. Don't be mad at her."

Apparently, someone else was guessing my thoughts too.

"She's following the society's etiquette and rules, and she's trying to make everything perfect for her family... Something she's never had growing up..." His voice became quieter; not that he'd ever been loud, and I'd never heard him raise his tone. Yet there, his whisper was almost engulfed by the chirping around.

"When your grandma passed away, your mom took care of the family, and she had to grow up too soon because I wasn't really present... I wasn't the best dad."

My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to picture my mom as a young girl, barely older than me, struggling to make things right, but it appeared as improbable as seeing the old man in front of me as something else than the best grandpa, and even if I wanted to find out more, my curiosity had its limits with the lines of regret etching on his old features.

"Like this?" I positioned my arms, turning to the red and white circle that was standing out in all the green around.

"No, like this." He put his hands over my tensed shoulders, making them lower. "And don't forget to keep both eyes open."

I knew this very well too, but I was glad to see his wrinkles were now oriented in a concentrated frown with no more sadness.

So I did the same, focusing on the dizzying circles. They must have had some kind of magic power, like in those cartoons where people's eyes turned into those spinning circles because it seemed to clear our minds, and I let my fingers hit the trigger with no more thoughts than all the advice Grandpa had given me, the thrill quickly taking over with each loud bang.

The rush of sparks didn't travel farther than my arms though, and I concluded it was disappointment when the load was emptied.

"You'll get better at it, Little gem, patience." He probably noticed my annoyed pout or my glare to the smallest circle that was mocking me like I would never reach it.

Patience wasn't my thing.

"Don't give up." It was like he was reading my mind, and I wondered if he also guessed what I was planning to do to this taunting target when I turned back to him.

"Why is it so important to hit the center?"

I had too many questions, too often, but I knew Grandpa was the only person that would always answer, even if cryptically.

"Precision is important, and if one day your target is moving, it will be even more important." He kneeled down again when I blinked my eyes at him, a little lost with everything.

For me, it was more fun than anything else. I was like the bandits or the pirates in books. Still, I always listened carefully to all of his advice, remembering them and writing them down—well, I made Spencer write them down, as he was better with words than me—and maybe one day I would understand.

"Listen, Little gem."

That was the moment I had to listen carefully, pursing my lips.

"Men can be dangerous, especially for precious girls like you." A shadow crossed his clear gaze as if he knew some secrets I didn't; well, he always did, but this knowledge seemed to haunt him behind his usually sparkling eyes.

"So I want you to be able to protect yourself." His gaze found mine again with a solemnity that made me nod before he even continued. "Never let anyone hurt you."

My eyes flashed open, my heart thudding painfully fast, and with it, the present rushed back to me.

It had been so vivid, my present self getting lost in this memory. I could still smell the unique mix of pines and ink in my stuffy nose, his soothing voice echoing in my ears.

'Men can be dangerous... Never let anyone hurt you...'

Now, I understood. Men were dangerous, especially those with luring words and warm eyes, and I had let him hurt me deeply.

Yet even if I could now shoot precisely, the gun had been of no use. It hadn't taken the pain away. Maybe I still didn't understand.

I looked down at the picture I was clutching preciously in my hand, trying to keep hold a little bit longer of his presence with me, though the black and white photo couldn't capture the impish twinkle in his eyes, neither his calm and wise aura.

"I wish you were here..." I whispered, grazing the image of the old man holding a younger me in his thin arms.

You would answer my questions. You would listen to me. I would be able to hug you until everything would be alright...

My cheeks hadn't dried when a new flood of tears streamed again, and with my chest tightening, my blurry gaze trailed to the window by reflex. Only to be met by the unusual floral fabric blocking the view. Only for my heart to get crushed again.

I was alone. No arms would soothe me, and the emptiness was invading me like the cold along my naked skin, as I was still wearing the same dress—if it could still be called that way—and although I had no energy or will to get up from my huddled position on the bed, I did it.

Maybe I would get warmer in my nightgown, and I wouldn't be stuck in this tight reminder of today?

No, when I slipped into the long garment, nothing had changed, neither when I threw the dress on top of the memories heap on the floor, and neither when I turned the lights off.

The glow from the neighboring house passing through the too-flimsy curtains and the slit under my door were both mocking and tempting me as the same need to escape was surging through my veins. But where?

I really had nowhere to go, and I was grounded.

Though I didn't want to go back to sleep either, when the tears were still spilling out, and even less if it was to wake up so alone.

I was staring at the bed in an internal battle between my sore and bruised muscles—including my heart—and my fugitive thoughts when something else caught my eyes, and I found myself crawling back to bed, my overexcited fingers already sneaking inside my handbag.

They stopped when they came in contact with a metallic item, although smaller than the familiar object I was looking for, and the emptiness inside warmed up as I pulled out the single coin.

At least, not every part of my birthday had been chaotic, and I tried to escape back in those few precious instants... the music, the lightness, the starlights, the infinite blue, the Cheshire cat's smile, the trail of sparking powder...

I would probably never meet any of those again, yet they would forever be precious memories, and I kept them with me as I laid back down on the mattress, staring at the lusterless circle of metal I was twisting between my fingers, and nibbling on my trembling lips.

I kept him in my memories, my evil genie, as the flashback of his hand held out for me appeared to me, and I could picture acutely the mystical intertwining of branches on the top of his large and rugged hand... the roots going up his wrist until they met dancing flames and a black sheep.

Soon, I was enumerating all the works of art on his white skin... A skull and crossbones accompanied with the word 'sinner' in bold handwriting... woman's breasts... a motorbike... a bottle of vodka... I had memorized a lot of details in my rush to forget, and my breathing was steadying as I continued, my gaze still on the coin, but my mind much farther.

So... do you think she will ever see this evil genie again? 🤔😈 And what about that cute farewell? 🥺

But most importantly, Spencer and his apologies, what do you think of them? 🤔

Tell me all your suppositions in the comments! And don't forget to vote ⭐ if you liked this chapter 😘

I also hope you liked the glimpse we got of her grandpa and why she's so good at shooting 😉🔫

I love you all, my little shooting stars/rays of sunshine, whatever you prefer! 🤩😘💕🌠🌞