Page 114 of The Other Side

His sculpted torso knits wildly as he wiggles my sweet bundle. Our inked doves violently knock into each other, and that’s all it takes before we’re combusting.

I toss my head back, crying out as he unleashes. Ropes of his cum angrily shoot into me, and I choke his pulsing dick.

Every droplet of his tension plants inside of me.

When we were younger, it was always the opposite. I was always pouring my trauma like a bucket of ice water on top of him. All that was left for him to do was absorb the shock of the chill.

But he soaked up too much.

Because of me.

Goddamn you, Callie.

My arms snake around his neck as he collapses into me. Our bodies beat alongside one another through every dose of euphoria. The smell of sex and sweat thread through the muggy air, and eventually, our limbs settle into a cozy embrace.

I cup his face before raising his attention to me. My eyes pop to his damp hairline, his short-clipped hair folding in varying directions. Only to dip to the glimmer of hope in his hazel depths.

And there isn’t another intake of breath before I’m snuggling that sweet boy in my arms.

Chapter 33

Callie Rae

“I think you should visit them.”

“Who?” I ask, my head tipping to the sky.

The clouds are blurred above the sleek branches of the loblolly pine trees. Golden rays breaking through in a scattered pattern.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” Brant clarifies. A tiny sigh trails his words. “And I think you should visit your parents. We can take a detour tomorrow before we leave.”

My attention is still stationed on the daylight awning. My shoes trek along the twigs and dirt just as his do, and I ask, “Why?”

My voice is a whisper. It weakens with the thought of sitting beside their memorial plaques in the grass.

What would I even say? Do I have anything worth telling them? What’s the point?

“I think you need some kind of closure.”

I turn to face Brant. The droning of a few birds echoes around the trees, wafts of pine waving between us.

I’m staring into his delicate eyes when I speak. “One visit won’t do that.”

“You have to start somewhere.” His head gently nods, my stature unmoving. “I know you know that. Because you’re strong. Never weak.”

I push past a lump in my throat. My arms hug my denim jacket over my chest, and my focus dips. Locating the ruffled texture of my white mini dress.

My head nods weakly, and then Brant raises a pinky between us.

I shed a slow and crooked smile, curling my pinky around his. Like second nature, we’re kissing our fists. Eyes and fingers connected for a beat longer when we lift.

I swallow thickly before whispering, “My heart…it was molded to fight. Right?”

He nods. “The strongest kind, Dove,” Brant offers. His touch plants this bravery inside of me, and I’m convinced the words are true. “I’ve been tellin’ you that, but you were always so stubborn.”

I release him with a light laugh. The sole of my slip-on shoe grates the ground, crunching a skinny stick. We’ve been here countless times, each conversation within this realm of trees too stimulating or exhausting.

Our actions were so impulsive back then. Either driven by our despair or libidos.