Page 148 of Lost Lyrebird

I spend hours that night trying and failing to relieve the ache with the toys in my bedside drawer.Nothing really satisfies the emptiness I feel or sates the desire for him that won’t abate.

The good news is that the money we raise is beyond anything we could have anticipated, and the shelter is both shocked and overjoyed by the donation.The paper even picked up the story and did a piece about it, which shed some positive light on the club.

Helping the families at the shelter, especially the ones who primarily focus on women, women like us who have experienced similar trauma to what girls like me and some of the other dancers have gone through, makes us all feel like we have the power in our own way to make a difference.

On a personal level, it gives me a rush I’ve never experienced before, and one I don’t want to come down from.I begin to imagine what I might do in the future with my life that will make a difference when all my grand schemes finally come to an end and I’m able to move on from the Greenbacks, the 13Ds, and the HOCs.

The thought is both welcome and one that, for the first time, doesn’t feel like freedom, because the idea of leaving some of the friends behind that I made here doesn’t sit well with me.

CHAPTER 43

Delicate beauty can be found in the simplest things if we let it.

Like a rare flower, thorns and all.

The day finally comes when I’m determined to talk to Goose about the pills.He’s been looking better.Addiction, though, is tricky, and I know there are good days and bad.It’s not something that can be kicked overnight.It’s a constant struggle, but one I want him to know that he doesn’t have to go through alone.

My mind is screaming at me to stay strong, have courage, but my heart… my damn stupid fucking heart can’t help but stumble when I see him standing there outside the back door of the club, holding a flower this time.

It’s purple.The rarest and hardest peony to find, and it’s stunning.It symbolizes royalty, wisdom, and admiration.And it’s not something you can find at just any old flower shop.

I love pink.To me, it’s always been the equivalent of a feminine grey.A grey sky can easily bleed to pink with a bit of sunlight, turning what could have been a dreary day full of cloud cover into a sky stretched with splendor and serenity.But purple holds a special place in my heart.It represents spirituality and loving the mystical, darker side of myself, which senses otherness in the world and is open to the energy around me.

But it’s not the only thing about this moment that hits me like an arrow to the chest.It’s the perfection of it.

“Hey.”He twirls the flower in his fingers and smooths his other hand down over his button-up shirt, which is black and nicely pressed.His jeans look new, and so do his combat boots.His hair is tied partially back away from his face in a half ponytail, although there are strands still tucked behind his ear.

“Hey, yourself.”

When I close the distance, he holds the flower out to me.My heart lights up because I’ve always felt that a bouquet diminishes the power and brilliance found in a single flower.

I don’t see the box until he pulls it out of his pocket and holds it out to me.It’s small, tiny really, and baby blue.

I blush, like honest-to-God blush, as I take the flower and thank him, and then the box.I open it, and pull out a small keychain.It’s a wooden dreamcatcher with three feathers in varying shades of purple and pink attached to it.

“I had a little extra wood sitting around the shop and thought I’d try my hand at carving some smaller pieces.This was my first attempt, so hopefully it’s all right.”

I rub my thumb over it and smile.“It’s beautiful.”

How can he get this so right?Does he know the profound impact these little symbols have on me?How my heart both soars and wants to curl up to protect itself?Because this hints at something.A past he’s claimed to have no memory of.Is it coming back to him, or is this a coincidence?

I thank him again, close my eyes, and smell the peony.I take in the sultry, subtle scent while telling my inner girly girl to chill the fuck out.When I blink open and peer up at him, he’s smiling.

“You like it?”

Holding it up, I say, “I like them all, but this one.It’s my favorite.”

“Yeah?

My grin is genuine.

“What’s the occasion?”

He shrugs, and he kicks his chin toward the lot.When I move closer, his hand goes to the small of my back.I put the key chain back in the box and tuck it into my purse.Together, we make the short walk to my car.

“What else do you like?”

“Oh, are we doing the get-to-know-you thing?”