Page 65 of The Other Side

My heart lunges in my throat.

10.

The number is carved, glowing under the recessed lighting of the living room ceiling. My lungs deplete with the bated breath I extract, eyes blooming with fresh tears.

My gaze runs over the contours of his pecs and abdomen. Olive skin is stretched so taut. He’s tight and strong. Molded just for me.

For me.

He wears a necklace for me. To keep me close to his heart. And if there was ever a question about who wrote the book for romance, Brant would be the answer.

My fingers fiddle with the charm over his heart. “The day your heart found a home.”

I echo the words he spoke to me ten years ago.

“My favorite day of the year,” he mutters.

My chin tips toward him, a final salty droplet trailing down my cheek. He sheds a fumbling smirk at the same time, his emotions clawing at the contours of his face.

And within a second, our arms snuggle each other.

Tightly.

Fiercely.

Brutally.

We’re holding on for dear life.

A grin spreads across my lips. I take the card from between his fingers, my trimmed nails sinking into the corner crease.

I tear the seam and extract the birthday card.

There’s a bundle of flowers painted on the cover. Every pastel shade of color bursts from the image.

Then I open it, my belly tenting when I skip the pre-printed message. And I land on his at the bottom.

5/10/09

10 will always be my favorite number.

It’s the day my heart found a home.

Dove

Chapter 20

Callie Rae

My lips purse around the end of the cigarette, and I inhale the burnt tobacco. I’m normally not one to compromise my lungs, especially after witnessing Daddy’s rough coughing fits. But occasionally, it’s required.

Elvis Presley’s “If I Can Dream” hums from the portable CD player. I take it out every once in a while, playing the songs Brant burned for me as a parting gift ten years ago.

I blow out a line of smoke, my eyes pinning to my garden in the right corner of the yard. The vivid colors scorn my indecency, and I slump against the padding of the patio chair. My knees bend to plant my feet on the cushion, my palm laying on top of my thigh.

I’m a selfish woman.

Deceitful and disloyal. Yet part of me is still trying to justify my actions from last night.