Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Law dropped a thick coil of wire on the ground and began to wrap it around the dumpster, before he paused and glanced up at him.
“You ever think about it, Wes?”
Wes arched a brow. “Think about what?”
“What we would’ve been if we’d stayed here and just did concerts and airshows instead of going to LA.”
Wes didn’t answer right away. He was too busy wiring a flint-spark strip along the old fence line, checking the angle like a sniper adjusting a scope.
“Yeah. I thought about it pretty recently. Right around the time you disappeared for a year.”
Law winced. “I guess that’s fair.”
Wes blew out a slow breath, annoyed at how much that still stung even though he now understood Law’s reasoning.
Law leaned against the fence, watching Wes with those sexy, apologetic eyes.
Like the sap he was, he couldn’t resist going to him, gripping the front of his hoodie, and tugging him close until their chests touched.
He slid his hand beneath Law’s jaw and ran his fingers through his beard.
“You drive me crazy, you fuckin’ know that?” Wes murmured.
He leaned in slowly, not to devour, but to savor as he pressed his lips gently to Law’s.
It wasn’t rushed or hungry. It was soft, anchoring…the kind of kiss that spoke of forgiveness and understanding.
He held Law while their mouths moved as though they had all the time in the world.
And for a few rare minutes…it felt like they did.
“Come on, let’s light this shit up.” Wes grinned against Law’s mouth.
They worked the devices in rhythm as if no time had passed between them, measuring distances and spacing the charges.
Wes set up the tripod and positioned the phone to catch the footage just like they used to when they were dumb, broke, and troublesome.
“All right.” Law was practically buzzing with excitement, “Three, two—”
“Wait.” Wes held up a hand. “You sure you don’t wanna, ya know, double-check the air stabilizer? Wouldn’t want another blackout situation.”
“Stop me like that again, and I’ll lace your flash paper with C-4 binder.”
Law stepped back, did one last countdown, and hit the trigger.
A chain of low, clipped thuds ignited down the line, followed by a whip of blue fire that hissed into a rapid smoke spiral—brilliant and mesmerizing—before the air caught it and pulled it into a rising funnel that shimmered orange in the darkness.
Law put his arms around him from behind as they watched the effects of fire and smoke dance with their unique choreography.
Wes flipped his Zippo open and shut, the soft click steady as he watched the fire move.
He loved how Law’s smoke spiraled into the sky like a middle finger to every studio that had blocklisted them.
He stared at the scorched fence line as if it were the first of many barriers they’d have to level.
When the show was done, Law whispered in his ear, “No one will ever be able to do what we do.”
Wes glanced over his shoulder. “We?”
“Yeah. We. No matter how long I’m gone or how pissed you are, this is always gonna be us. You can’t fake this shit, Wes. We’re the only two geniuses on Earth who can make two dueling elements look like poetry and chaos at the same time.”
After the flames dissolved and the smoke faded, they packed up their gear and tossed it all into the back seat.
“Damn, that felt good,” he said wiping soot off his fingers with an old rag.
“Yeah…it’s been too damn long since I blew up something just because I wanted to.”
Law kicked a rock with his boot. “You think maybe we could pull something together? Pitch a few new ideas, get back in with the indie scene around town?”
Wes scratched his jaw. “If we build something wild enough, maybe. We’ve still got that compound trigger system, and your subzero vapor flash idea…”
“And your flexible ember mesh,” Law added, nodding. “That was hot as fuck.”
Wes grinned. “Yeah, until it set half my workroom on fire.”
“Semantics.”
“You hungry?” Law asked.
“Starving.”
“Wanna hit up that Cuban spot off Mitchell? The one that still uses Styrofoam. It’s all I can afford.”
Wes’s stomach growled. “Do I want mystery meat, stiff rice, and over-cooked beans for five ninety-nine? Sure, why not?”
They climbed in his truck, but before Wes could get the key in the ignition, Law reached across the bench seat and stopped him.
“What?” Wes asked.
Law didn’t answer right away. Just studied him.
Then he leaned in slowly. Their lips met in a kiss that was tame at first…then fire crept in like it always did.
Law fisted Wes’s collar and yanked him closer.
Smoke still clung to his skin, as Law’s tongue slid together with his in perfect rhythm.
When they pulled back, Law rested his forehead against his.
“We’re gonna make it back,” he said, voice gruff and serious. “We’re not done.”
Wes nodded.
The moment faded, but their flame would never go out.
Wes drove them away from their past and hopefully toward their new future.