Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(80)

And when I’m with them, I’m being schooled constantly. Though I still haven’t voiced a decision, that hasn’t at all stopped them from voicing their opinions. Dominic is speaking up more as well. It’s highly entertaining waking up and walking downstairs to see them watching the morning news on every station as I hand them coffee. Both of them tense at the same moments and utter ‘bullshit’ at the exact same time. In lieu of football, they talk politics and are never in favor of either side. If I wasn’t studying the distinctions between them daily, I would sometimes think they are the same person.

But in a lot of aspects, they’re night and day, dark cloud and golden sun. And drawing the comparison between them has become inevitable. I stopped beating myself up about it after the first week or so.

I’ve never navigated my way through dating two men, and I’ve got more on my plate with them than I can handle. If I weren’t so blissed out daily, I would probably give in to the naysayer screaming “ho” in my head. I bat that bitch away like a gnat because I’m sure that many women, given a chance, would tap dance toward either of their beds, roll around in their affection and then vie for my position between them.

Though I am tap-dancing over that moral line, the day at the lake was the one and only time I allowed myself to be shared at the same time.

But that’s where it ended for me.

Man, did they ever make it memorable.

Not because I didn’t enjoy it. Just the opposite. I enjoyed it far too much. However, my conscience did not, and it cheapens the romance aspect of it for me.

These two men have flipped my world, made colors more vivid, made sounds sweeter, made the world as a whole more bearable. My dreams consist of ray-filled days full of coconut lotion, long kisses, itchy sunburns, floating between waterfalls, and sighs before exhausted bodies collapse against feathery pillows. Other dreams of rainy days and nights filled with flips of pages and old nineties flicks, of cheddar popcorn and lavender scented blankets, of lightning and thunder and the fast pants and moans between the streak in the sky and the ground rattling boom that follows.

But these are my waking dreams, and I’m living them.

Dreaded shifts at the plant no longer bother me. I work them faithfully with Selma’s smile. My father’s absence no longer affects me in the way it has in the past because I’ve bore witness to two prime examples that there are good men left in the world. Loyal men. Faithful men. Though thieves they may be because they’ve stolen my heart.

I’m in love with both of them.

Two men, who make me feel adored, cherished, and respected. Two men, who have no issue which bed I keep warm. Two men, who look at me with nothing but lust and affection. Well, Sean does; Dominic gifts me with rare looks and slammed the door in my face the last time I saw him. I’d popped my head in his room and barely managed to get out before it was sealed tight. I tried not to take it personally, but I lost. We’re currently in a fight he doesn’t even know about, but I don’t let that deter me.

He’s a moody one, that motherfucker.

Layla smiles at Tessa while she bags her dresses and thanks us both profusely.

We eyeball each other as we exit the store.

“I’ll tell him.” I offer as we cross the walkway of the square toward her truck.

“I thought you would.”

“It’s so sad.”

She nods.

“I love that we can help, well,” I bite my lip, “you know what I mean.” We climb up into Layla’s massive truck, parked off Main Street as she looks around.

“Did you like growing up here?”

“Yeah. I’m glad I stayed when I graduated. I see it differently as the years pass.”

I consider the bustling square that looks like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. “I get that.”

“Gotta love Small Town, USA,” she says softly before turning to me. “Do you think you’ll end up settling in Atlanta?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve no plans past applying to UG.”

Layla owns a small salon on the outskirts of town and refurbishes furniture on the side. We spent most of our morning scouring yard sales until she found her new project.

She pulls away and heads toward my father’s house where she picked me up this morning. I make sure to sleep at home at least twice a week to keep myself centered, though it’s not much help. My dreams are twice as memorable as they used to be.

“What you thinking about over there?”

My cheeks heat with guilt. “I’m so screwed.”

“It’s okay to be happy, Cecelia. You don’t have to apologize for smiling. I don’t know who taught you differently.”

I look over to where she sits, her hand on the wheel as she winks at me.

“I’m in love with them.”

She grins. “I know.”

“You think they do?”

“You haven’t told them?”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“I’m glad.”

“I can’t talk to my mom, or my best friend, ya know? They won’t get it. But you do, and I’m grateful.”

“Trust me when I say that you’re better off keeping them in the dark about everything.”

“Trust me. I intend to.” I type out a lengthy text to my mother, promising her some one-on-one and toss my phone in my purse.