Page 92 of The Other Side

And one for the birthday he found me.

I exhale a long breath, my face contorting with glee. A grin spreads across my face, and I gesture to the box. “Can I have one? Please.”

“Your knack for asking silly questions worries me a bit.”

A breathy snicker slips from me as I grab a cookie. My eyes lock with his as I wrap my lips around half the dessert. I bite into the dense texture, notes of chocolate and almond blending together on my tongue. The rich flavor travels to my belly, and I decide to lift the cookie to Brant’s mouth.

Without hesitation, his hot lips trap my fingers. My belly cartwheels when the tip of his tongue assists him, and he sucks the snack in one swift motion. His taut jaw shuffles to munch on the sweet treat, but our gazes never sever.

I roll the sticky pads of my fingers together, inhaling as I turn. I lean my lower stomach against the edge of the counter, and Brant plants the box down at my side.

His presence lights a match to the newer pieces of my heart. The parts that weren’t rebuilt properly.

And I allow him to disintegrate them.

To ashes.

Just so he can work his magic again.

Somehow, this man was given a divine power to heal me. He’s a remedy in human form—my forever cure.

He fixes me with his love. A love that I found in trenches of heartache and pain. It wasn’t supposed to exist there, but somehow, we crafted it into reality.

It’s magic.

Pure magic.

Brant’s behind me, and I begin to shrug my cardigan off my shoulders. He halts the journey, catching the bunched material in his palm when he says, “Callie, n⁠—”

“I left him.”

The whispered confession spews out of me. My body craves to be smothered against his, and if I don’t do it now, I might die. Just like I would’ve if he didn’t make love to me in that sunflower patch all those years ago.

He remains still.

The heat of his proximity spreads to my core, and my panties pool with thick desire. “What did you just say?” he asks.

“I packed a bag. It’s in the car. I left him.”

We’re still for several seconds. The echo of my admission is like a boomerang that bounces back and forth between the walls of the kitchen.

I can feel the man he’s become as he towers over my backside. But somewhere in this abrupt turn of events, Brant’s touch melts into his.

The first and only boy I ever fell in love with.

It never changed.

His hands sink to my waist, gently squeezing. His head hovers over the slope of my neck, my nipples stabbing through the snug fabric of my dress.

I slip my sweater down the remaining length of my arms, and he reflexively catches the material. Tossing it to the floor before his palm relocates itself.

“Am I your last?”

His question rings through, the gratifying sound nudging my head to fall to my right.

I nod.

“No, don’t nod at me,” he murmurs, kneading my waist. “Say it.”