Page 137 of The Other Side

He offers a quick wink, the gesture releasing butterflies. Because as carnal as our lovemaking is, I know I’ll always be able to challenge my limits with him. I’ll always be willing to experience something new because I trust him with every cleft of my soul. I won’t ever have to seek another thrill because he’s all the excitement I’m ever going to need.

Packaged into a beautiful heart.

I got the best of both worlds.

And I’d be the dumbest woman to ever run away from it again.

Chapter 40

Callie Rae

I’m adjusting the high waistline of my plaid trousers, making sure my fitted blouse is tucked in. My heels tap along the wood floor of the hallway, and Brant’s already holding out a mug for me.

I enter the kitchen, the running water of the shower humming from the distance. The roast of fresh coffee beans whirls through the air. The early morning sun casts a tender glow through the window, parking on Brant’s long-sleeve henley.

I flash a smirk as I take the hot drink from him. He leans down, his lips meshing to mine for a warm kiss. Then I stare at the top of his head, noticing the way his tiny hairs have been gelled slightly for work.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” I answer, lifting my mug to my mouth.

He pops his chin to the eat-in table along the wall, peeling his lower back from the counter. I spin to follow him, placing my drink down on the polished wood.

When I drop into the thin padding of the seat, my shoulders jolt. A sharp pinch of discomfort courses through me, and I hiss. I cross one leg over the other to relieve the pressure, and Brant’s swiping a hand over his mouth.

He’s masking a quiet chuckle.

My tongue attaches to the inside of my cheek as I scold him. “Must be nice to be a man and walk away Scott-free,” I quip, easing myself into the chair at the new angle.

“Yeah, it is, actually,” he sighs, cradling his coffee in two palms over the tabletop. His hazel irises glint with amusement, his legs spread in that manly way in his jeans.

“Thanks,” I drawl sarcastically.

“No problem.” He raises his mug, a smirk emerging from his lips.

My eyes roll, sipping another warm taste before setting my cup down. Then I station my stare on the mug for a borrowed second, collecting the right words.

I slump back, my gaze still trained on my coffee when I finally say, “I’m going to gather the rest of my stuff. Return some things to Jesse.” My throat rolls when I lift my stare to Brant’s.

“He’s reached out to you?” he asks.

I simply nod. “I missed a few calls from him.”

“And you called him back?”

His question is prepared and curt.

“I texted him,” I admit. “How else am I supposed to make plans to gather everything I own?” My brows gently hike, pinning him with a confident glare. “I also have to return some things to him.”

“You can’t have someone else do it?” he tosses, sinking back in his chair. Then his hand absently gestures to the side, his jaw ticking. “Fuck, I’ll do it myself if that’s what you need.”

“That’s genius, Brant,” I mock. “Have him figure us out before he tarnishes your reputation and gets you fired.”

He rotates his head to the side as he licks his lips. His arm crosses over his chest before propping his opposite elbow on it. The pads of his fingers mindlessly toy with the stubble on his chin, and there’s anger woven in his hazel depths. But there’s also something more.

Fear

Dread.