by Coralee June
"If you still have her old recipe books, I could try to make it for you?" I cringed, knowing that my efforts would be futile. If anything, I would probably ruin the good memory he had of his mother's cooking.
Callum must have sensed the unease on my face because he then laughed. "That's okay, Baby. I'd rather remember hers. Besides, what if you inherited your mother's cooking abilities?" He joked while elbowing me in the side.
I let out a half-hearted laugh, trying my best to keep upbeat despite the grim mention of my mother. I knew that just two feet to the left and six feet down was a pretty little coffin filled with her ugly remains.“You’re the one that always showed up for family dinner,” I replied. “I wasn’t sure if you were brave or starving.”
Callum lifted his hand and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip. “Neither. I stomached her bad food so I could see you.” Damn Callum. Just when I thought I couldn’t fall for him any farther, he went and said shit like that.
I directed my eyes to Mr. Mercer's tombstone and smiled when I saw the quote engraved deeply within the solid rock. No matter how many times I came here, it still made me chuckle.
“Go away. I'm asleep."
Callum cracked a small smile, and I thought back on all the silly jokes Mr. Mercer used to play. For someone involved with keeping the peace, he sure did play a lot of jokes. He thrived on laughter, making sure to lighten the load of anyone near him.
"I never realized how lame my father's humor was until I read his will and found out I had to put that on his tombstone," Callum said. "Gotta love the dad jokes."
We stood there for a moment in silence, both of us reminiscing over the various memories we had of his family. I enjoyed thinking back on them with fondness. Although Callum and I had a five year age difference, we had known each other throughout our childhood, going to the same events and parties with our parents. I mourned his parents alongside him after their death.
When it was time to face my own mother's mortality, I took a moment to close my eyes and find comfort in that dark part of my mind that believed she died five years ago. The moment she sent me away to live on my own, to fight this world without her guidance, was the day I accepted that the mother I wanted was no more. My father twisted her into a dark and sad little imitation of life. I knew that closure was necessary, but I also knew that seeing her grave wouldn't break me, because I broke a long time ago.
I opened my eyes and turned to look upon the tombstone marking where my mother was. The dirt surrounding it was still fresh as if it were just filled. There was nothing unique about her headstone. It was large, casting a shadow over the Mercers’ plots.
"Loving Wife and Mother," I said, quoting her tombstone. "How original."
I let out a dark chuckle, and once again, Callum placed his palm at the base of my back. He guided me closer as if forcing me to come to terms with what I was looking at. "It's a pretty little spot," Callum said. Just behind her grave was a large tree. In the summertime, it would shade her plot. My mother did always like to hide in the shadows.
"Am I supposed to say something? Do something?" I asked Callum while turning to face him. I wanted to reminisce, maybe even talk to her. But I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to act.
"You can do whatever feels right," Callum answered. He started rubbing little circles along my spine, and I leaned closer as the breeze picked up. There was a cold front coming through, spearheading a storm. I felt the oncoming chill deep in my bones.
"Nothing feels right, Callum." My answer was probably the most honest I'd been about my feelings since learning of her death. Sometimes, there was power in admitting what you didn't know.
"I hated you forever," I said, directing my attention to the rock that was supposed to somehow metaphorically represent the woman that left me to fend for myself. "Am I supposed to grieve you? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Am I supposed to cry at your grave and mourn the woman that ruined my life? You abandoned me. You picked him."
Although I told myself I wouldn't cry, tears began streaming from my eyes like bullets from a gun. There was no holding the force of them back. "Why did you pick him? Why were you such a coward?" All the things I wanted to know but never would find out were spewing from my lips. I stomped on the ground to accentuate my frustration. "And you know what the worst part about all of this is, Mom?" I asked before dropping to my knees at her grave. "I still miss you, and I hate myself for it."
After kneeling there for what felt like an eternity, I felt a hand on the back of my neck. I stood up and wiped the stress from my face. Staring at the ground, I averted my eyes from her plot until my gaze locked onto another tombstone directly beside her.
"What is this?" I asked before taking a step closer.
Callum cursed before grabbing my elbow as if to direct me away. "Summer, I forgot. Come on, let's go."
I ripped my arm out of his hold and stared at the tombstone that said my name. "Summer Bright."
I moved forward and touched the groove of the rock where my birthdate was carved. "What is this, Callum?" It was surreal, seeing my name there. It felt like, once more, the tennis racket was connecting with my gut. It didn't feel like I was really here.
"When you went missing, your parents decided to have a small ceremony. Your mother claimed that it would help her cope."
I rolled my eyes with the sniffle. "More like she wanted an excuse for all the attention to be on her," I growled. I could almost see it now. My mom probably wore a flattering dress, all black and all eyes on her. She probably carefully applied her makeup and dabbed at the corners of her eyes to look like she was crying.
"This is so fucked up," I said. I wanted to kick the tombstone over, I wanted to prove that I was alive. I survived, dammit. I didn't like that this thing, this piece of rock and concrete, was trying to take away all that I'd work so hard for.
"Did you attend?" I asked. I needed to know.
"I didn't want to. I knew you were alive, Summer. Nothing added up, and I just felt it in my gut that you weren’t dead. But I was also grieving when you left. If you don't like that your parents did this, fine. I understand. But it gave me comfort, if it makes you feel any better."
"But I'm alive," I said, mostly trying to convince myself. When you’ve been close to death, it made you question your own existence. My breathing grew more rapid as I pinched my skin, as if trying to feel the pain so that it would further validate my point. I was here, wasn’t I?
Two hands clamped down on my shoulders, and I looked up at Callum's blond hair and blue eyes. He was frowning, obviously doubting himself for bringing me here. "Of course you're alive, Baby. I feel you right here. You feel me?" He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. For a moment, I closed my eyes and counted the beats of his heart.
"I'm alive, Callum. Don't let anyone take that from me," I whispered.
Overhead, more clouds began to roll through. They were a dark and ominous gray, but the high-powered winds were nothing compared to the fury inside of me. I needed to do something. I needed to feel alive at this moment. I wasn't just some cheap funeral or scapegoat to further my father's agenda and my mother's need to be in the public eye.
Callum grabbed my hand and turned as if to head back up and over the hill to where Joe was parked on the other side. No one could see us here, which was why I made the rash decision to yank him back towards me and pull him in for a kiss.
I didn't think about where we were or the fat raindrops plopping down on my flushed skin. I didn't feel the icy chill in the air or the way the mud beneath my feet seemed to sink with each step.
All I felt was the press of his lips against mine and the clashing of our teeth as we clawed our way closer to one another. His fingers threaded through my hair, and I pressed harder against him. "Baby, you're here," he whispered against my lips. Thunder crashed in the distance, and I wondered if we were always meant to collide this way. I wondered if our love was always meant to be fostered from suffering. This kiss wasn't pleas
ant, nor was it intended to make us feel better. This was the dance of two lonely people fighting to feel.
“Feel me,” I moaned. “Tell me I’m real.”
We met during the calm before the storm. It was easy to form our bond within the safe innocence of my childhood. But now we were lightning and thunder. We were crashing floods and destruction.
Callum guided me beneath the nearby tree and laid me down beneath the barren limbs. There were no leaves to protect us from the storm, but I welcomed the cold icy rain as the earth and fallen leaves crushed beneath my back. I was on sensory overload, and the bitter pain of the weather was bringing the pleasure of his kisses to new heights.
He was quick to rip off my boots and slide down my jeans; I shivered as the cool, wet air hit me, but Callum's hot body was on me again before I could settle in the icy feeling. Lifting my leg up, he propped my calf on his shoulder as I leaned up to kiss him once more. Nipping at his bottom lip, he slid inside of me with a single thrust. "You're here. You're alive," he said.
We were both huffing, our breath making clouds of fog between us as he moved deep within me. I liked that it was uncomfortable and that nothing about this was perfect or right or meaningful. I loved that Callum and I came together somewhere between the screaming sky and the dead.
I cried out with each thrust, "God, yes." Callum was being a selfish lover, taking and claiming all that had been denied him.
"I like you shaky, naked, and beneath me," Callum growled. I closed my eyes to accept each punishing thrust, but he wasn't having any of that.
"Look at me," he said with a sigh. "See me."
I didn't orgasm. There was no loving coaxing of our bodies. We didn’t find comfort or even resolution. I let him pound me raw and use me up until he was screaming my name louder than the thunder around us. It wasn't until I saw his tears mixing in with the rain that I truly saw Callum.
Today wasn't about my closure. It was about his.
Chapter Five
My clothes clung to my body during the drive to the lake house Gavriel rented for a couple of days. I clenched my teeth while forcing the shivers away. My hair had mud and leaves tangled in each strand, and there was a deep-set chill in my bones I couldn’t get rid of.
Callum looked worse than I did. I’d never seen him so messy. My clean-cut guy was covered with dirt, and his eyes were red from the salty tears he’d released. We weren’t speaking, partly because we didn’t know what to say and partly because Joe was still in the back seat looking horrified.
“Mr. Moretti is going to kill me,” Joe finally said while massaging his temples. I was thankful for the break in silence.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Joe. You’re the only one of his guards that I actually like,” I replied while flipping down the mirror and staring at my reflection. The red lipstick I’d put on this morning before my flight was smeared along my chin and streaks of mascara-lined my cheeks. I didn’t have that post-sex glow everyone always talked about. I looked like I’d just been through a war. And maybe in some ways, I had.
“That’s not reassuring,” he grumbled in response. “You look like you just got the shit beat out of you.”
I reached for Callum’s hand, but he pulled it away from me before I could grab it. It felt like there were miles of distance between us now, and I wasn’t sure what I thought about that. I thought that sex with Callum would have brought us closer. I had hoped that it would solidify the intense emotional bond between us, but instead, it seemed to crumble whatever weak foundation we’d barely established. Callum must have seen the confused expression on my face, because after glancing at Joe in the rearview mirror, he let out a sigh and spoke.
“I didn’t want it to happen like that. Right now, I feel like the shittiest human on the planet, and I can’t even look at you without hating myself, let alone touch you. I just...I need a minute, okay? It has nothing to do with you.”
“I have no regrets about what just happened, Callum,” I whispered honestly. It might not have been perfect, but it was real.
“But I do. I’m not Gavriel. I don’t do that. All those years of waiting and I just…” Callum punched the steering wheel, and I heard a grumble from Joe in the backseat. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
I tried not to feel hurt by his need for space. Callum needed time to process everything. It’s just how he was. I couldn’t count the number of times he would disappear to handle things. Anytime he was overstimulated emotionally, you could find him hiding from the world and sitting in silence. It was how he coped.
I craved some sort of validation though. Regret was a powerful emotion, and I didn’t want to be one of the things he thought about late at night. I didn’t want to be something he questioned or considered a mistake. I’m not one who needed hours of cuddling after sex. I was more than capable of cleaning myself up, getting dressed, and leaving before they woke up.
But with Callum, it was different. What just happened was so rushed, so emotional, that I felt like I needed something—anything—to feel like he didn’t hate me.
When we pulled up to the lake house, I wasn’t surprised to see the three-story log house with huge windows looking out over the lake. We were secluded from everyone else, but still about ten miles from where the Jamesons’ old boathouse used to be. The rain was still pouring down, creating ripples on the water and crashing waves. Leaves were picked up and blown around with each gust of wind. It was beautiful but haunting.
“Wow,” I said in awe.
“Just once, I wish he’d pick a smaller house,” Joe grumbled. “Look how many points of entry there are.” He gestured towards the house in frustration as Callum parked.
Joe got out of the car, fighting the wind and rain as he ran up towards the front door. “You okay?” I asked Callum as he turned off the car and reached for the door handle.
“Are you?” he asked.
“Yeah?” I replied though it sounded more like a question than an answer. Callum leaned back in his seat before turning his head to look at me.
“I’m sorry that happened like that...all I can think of right now is how much you probably hate me.”
I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, not caring how his lips didn’t respond to mine or how he tasted like rain and mud. Callum had a lot of ideas about how the world was supposed to work. He thought love was this pretty little thing to treasure. He restricted himself to what he thought romance and affection were supposed to be. But that’s not how it worked. Love was just this potent emotion that burst from the seams. It hurt, it moved, it healed. Callum needed healing, and there was nothing we could do to stop what had just happened. We were inevitable, he and I.
“I don’t hate you. I loved what just happened. I’ll love when it happens again. I’ll love when you plan it out and when it’s spontaneous. I’ll love when it’s gentle and slow, or rough and punishing. All I care about is that it’s with you.”
I didn’t give Callum the opportunity to respond, because I knew he didn’t necessarily understand what I was talking about. It would take a while for him to let go of his stringent code of conduct, and I was willing to wait and show him every dirty little piece of his soul and how it fit perfectly with mine.
Inside the house, Ryker was lounging on a leather couch. The lake house had an open concept layout. The kitchen was a bit outdated but still impressively large and well stocked, with a double stove and granite countertops. I didn’t see Blaise or Gavriel, so I assumed that they were working on something. Callum kissed my cheek then disappeared down a dark hallway.
“Were you mud wrestling?” Ry asked before standing up from the couch with a wince. His cheek was bruised, and his left eye was swollen. I noted a couple stitches on his jaw and was thankful for not watching his fight the night before. He moved like he was sore, but still managed to make his way over to me to wrap me up in a hug.
I shivered in his embrace, and he pulled away to stare at me more. The last time we’d spoken was still rep
laying in my mind, but I didn’t want to focus on that; I wanted a hot shower and some comfort.
As if reading my mind, he said, “Let’s get you all cleaned up.”
My room had the best view. I was sure the guys planned it that way. I took a moment to stare outside, breathing on the window pane and letting the glass fog up. Branches looked like they were going to snap from the wind.
The attached bathroom had a free-standing tub with white tile and a walk-in shower. Windows lined the shower wall, showing off the beautiful view, but they were tinted so no one could see us bathe.
Ryker turned on the water for the double showerhead, and hot steam started to fill the room. I made quick work of getting out of my wet clothes as Ry watched in fascination.
“I’m kind of pissed but also intrigued by all the marks on your body, Sunshine,” Ryker said while removing his own clothes.
I gasped when I saw a collection of dark bruises along his ribs and stomach. Gavriel said he had won last night, but I guess it was a close match. Would I ever get used to his fighter lifestyle?
“I could say the same for you, Ry Baby.” Ryker looked down at himself then trailed his hands along his defined washboard abs before smirking at me.
“I think you got yours in a much more interesting way than I got mine,” was his response.
Shaking my head and biting my lip, I stepped in the shower and let the burning hot water thaw the chill in my muscles. Ryker followed close behind and stood under the second stream of water coming out from the shower head on the other side.
We watched each other for what felt like forever, never breaking eye contact as the water beat down on our backs. “You wanna talk about it?” Ryker finally asked.
Instead of answering, I turned around and grabbed the shampoo from the ledge near me. After pumping some in my hand, I began lathering my hair. Looking down, I watched the mud in my hair wash down the drain.
“Now I’m very intrigued,” Ryker said while stepping forward. I felt fingers on my back running lines up and down. “You’ve got scratches all along your back. It looks hot as fuck.”
