by Mj Fields
Sitting around the table with Brand’s family and mine is amusing, to say the least. They exchange embarrassing stories about us as kids, but the best thing about it is neither Brand nor I are embarrassed at all. We have pretty much grown up together. Pretty much talked smack about each other to our parents and each other. We were always pulling away whatever was pushing us together, fighting a force that was stronger than either of us.
“So, are we planning a baby shower or a bridal shower first?” Garrett asks, and the entire room falls silent.
I look at Dad, who’s a bit pink, but not nine-alarm firetruck red, or worse , purple … yet.
“Graduation would be my bet.” Dad gives him a tight smile.
Garrett nods. “Just thinking, you all being Catholic, you’d want—”
“We’re Catholic on Christmas, Easter, and when they used to be forced to attend that Catholic school.” Patrick chuckles.
“Now we’re just heathens,” Truth remarks, and everyone laughs.
Garrett looks at Brand.
“Whatever she wants is fine with me.” Brand squeezes my hand.
“Can’t wait to see that ring.” Max chuckles.
“She already put a ring on Brand,” Truth says. “Two, actually.”
Dad looks at me.
“He already has your name on his body permanently,” Max adds.
“I have a feeling that, when that’s supposed to happen, it will be whether any of us is ready or not.” Brand smiles, defusing any tension at the table as he looks at me. “We’ll just go with it, right, Katy?”
“We will.”
Not Ready For Goodbye
Brandon
“You excited?” Katy asks, handing me a huge bowl of popcorn then curling up next to me on the couch.
I’m not. Not one bit. My stomach is in knots. Never felt like running away from a responsibility in my life until now. She’s pregnant, and I’m going to fly across the ocean to do some shows and a ton of press, when I’d rather do everything or nothing at all with Katy.
I answer, “Yeah,” not wanting to kill the excitement.
“You don’t seem to be,” she says, clearly seeing right through me, and that brings a genuine smile to my face, which gains me one in return.
“You should be there.” She nods slightly at the flat screen.
“I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“It’s the newness. You’ll get sick of me someday,” she sighs as she lays her head on my shoulder and looks up at me.
“Even when you were shooting daggers at me, flipping your hair, and sticking your nose in the air whenever I looked in your direction, I wanted to be around you. Now I’m addicted. Pretty sure that’s never gonna happen.”
“We’ll talk every couple da—”
“Every day,” I interrupt her.
“The time difference.” She yawns.
I laugh, and she smiles and shakes her head.
“Tired, Katy Steel?”
“Not me, not ever. It’s the baby.”
She’s full of shit.
“Then sleep.”
“I’ll just rest my eyes.”
“Sleep is a good idea.”
“Not sleeping, just resting my eyes.”
I press my lips to the top of her head. “Mmmhmm.”
“Hey, son.” I hear my dad and force my eyes open.
“Katy,” Carly whispers, and she starts to sit up.
We look at each other as the nominees’ names are announced one at a time.
I don’t even look at the TV; I’m looking at her and she’s looking at me as the room that was quiet seconds ago erupts around us, cheering my name.
She smiles at exactly the same time the 2020 Song of the Year is announced.
The house that two minutes ago was near silent—hell, quiet enough for both Katy and me to fall asleep—sounds like an arena filled with tens of thousands of people.
“Congratulations, Brand.” Katy hugs me as the announcer accepts the award on my behalf. “You wish you were there?”
“No, Katy, I’m exactly where I want to be, with you and the people who matter the most.”
Took a good half hour for goodbyes and only two minutes to strip each other naked and fall into bed. Our bed.
She grabs the side of my face, her nails biting into my skin a bit, as our lips crash together. Then she wraps her legs around my waist and starts to grind against me.
When I take her hands and still them, she breaks our kiss and looks at me curiously.
“Let’s slow it down, Katy. No rush. Not tonight.”
I see her eyes soften in the soft light of our bedside table.
I kiss down her body as she squirms under my caress, my kiss … me.
Moving lower, I push her leg with my knee so that I can spend some much-needed quality time with my mouth between her thighs. I lift her leg and place kisses inside her lower calf, slowly making my way up to her inner thigh.
“Brand,” she gasps as I suck on the fleshiest part of it and grips the sheets while arching her back, pushing her tits upward.
Fuck, I think as I force myself to move back down her leg, then do the same thing on the other.
Her hips rock against my face as I nip at her thigh, an overwhelming desire to make her come killing my restraint. I no longer give a shit about restraint.
Facedown between her legs, I push my hands under her, grip her ass, and pull her snug against my face. Kissing, licking, sucking on her sweet, musky flesh, I peer up and watch her gorgeous face fight to shackle the orgasm that’s right fucking there.
She grips the headboard and cries out as she hooks her ankles behind me. Finally succumbing to her own need, she gasps as she allows herself to release while crying softly, “Yes, yes.”
Not wanting to stop, I continue, but she grabs my hair and sits up. She starts to pull me up by my hair, and I suck harder, grip her ass firmer, and push my tongue deeper inside her tight, sweet pussy.
“Oh my God.” She releases my hair and flops back, twisting and turning, fighting hard to pull away but still fucking my face. “Brand, I need you inside me … now.”
It takes just a second to make that happen, but we go slow, real fucking slow, kissing, touching, loving each other until we can’t move anymore.
In the shower, when completely clean, we hold each other under the water until it starts to run cold, not saying a damn word.
While she gets in bed, I run down and grab a couple bottles of water and see my old guitar, my very first one, and grab it.
When I walk in, she sits up. “What are you doing?”
I drop the bottles of water on the bed, set a foot on it, prop the guitar on my knee, and begin to play.
Shaking her head but smiling, she asks, “What are you doing?”
“When the sun had left and the winter came, and the sky fall could only bring the rain, I sat in darkness, all brokenhearted.”
She covers her face, but I see her smiling beautifully as she listens to me sing “Holy” by Florida Georgia Line to her.
Halfway through the song, she slides off the bed and whispers, “Don’t stop singing to me,” as she takes the guitar from my hands, sets it on the bed, turns back, and takes my hands, setting them on her hips.
“ ’Cause you’re the first thing, I know I can believe in. You’re holy, holy, holy, holy. I’m high on loving you, high on loving you.” I turn her and pull her back against my chest, splaying my hands across her belly, holding her and our baby.
She rests her head against my shoulder and looks up at me, placing her hand on my face as we sway back and forth while I continue singing to her.
The last chorus, I spin her slowly so she’s facing me and kneel down. I lift the tee-shirt that she’s wearing and sing to our child. “You’re the healing hands where it used to hurt. You’re my saving grace, you’re my kind of church. You’re holy.” I lean in and kiss her belly over, and over, and over, and over again. “Daddy loves you, baby. Take care of you
r momma and, when I get back, I’ll take care of you both for the rest of my life.”
I feel her kiss the top of my head, and then she whispers, “We love you, Brand Falcon, always.”
I slowly stand up, kiss her forehead, and then help her into bed, where we lie, looking at each other. With her fingers, she does that thing she does, tracing my lips, my face, and looking at me like I’m something special.
No matter how many awards I’ve won or will win, nothing will ever top this. Nothing.
Sitting at the airport with Nick D., my manager, waiting to be called to board, I look at my phone.
“She’s gonna be so pissed at you, Brand. She’s gonna hand you your ass.” He chuckles.
“She won’t,” I say, sitting back.
“Care to make a bet?” he asks, leaning forward.
I look at him and nod. “Sure.”
“Loser buys dinner every night on this tour.”
I chuckle. “Forever Four pays for meals and—”
“Humor me, kid.” He chuckles.
I hold out my hand. “It’s a bet.”
As if on cue, my phone rings. I hit decline then call her back using FaceTime.
When she answers, she looks pissed.
“Morning, Katherine Anne Steel.”
Her bottom lip pouts out for a split-second then she sighs. “Brand, why’d you do it?”
“Did you get the note I left you?”
She nods.
“You need me to say it, too?”
She shakes her head.
“I love you, Katy girl.”
“Love you.”
“I’ll message you when my flight lands.”
She nods, and I can see her eyes start to tear up.
“Do me a favor?”
She straightens her shoulders and nods. It makes me smile.
“Have a good day at your new school.”
She sighs. “You’re so stupid.”
“Love you.”
“Fly safe, Falcon.”
“No worries, Katy girl; Falcons have wings.”
It takes her a few beats, but then she smiles.
It’s forced, a bit lopsided, but she does it just the same.
Seashore Academy Bound
Katherine
Katy Girl,
You’ll have to forgive me for not waking you, but I knew I couldn’t put either of us through saying a word neither of us will ever be able to say to each other.
Never.
Gonna ask you to think of last night and how we fell asleep, hearts full and futures planned.
Gonna ask you to trust me when I tell you that I held you, kissed you, told you I love you, felt it from you, too, before I left.
Gonna ask you to smile for me, Katy girl, and promise you I’m gonna do the same.
See you when you wake.
Thank you for letting me love you.
Yours,
Brand
After the brief talk with Brand on FaceTime, I knew that what he wrote was for both of us, and that he was right. Saying goodbye would have been torture. It would have been hell to let him go, but it dawns on me that it may have been impossible for him.
It hurts my heart to think he’ll be doing this whole tour basically by himself. I know Nick is with him, and his band, which he doesn’t seem very close to, not like STD, the first band Uncle Xavier signed as their producer and label. His family didn’t travel with him; they had their business to run and other kids still in school.
It dawns on me that Brand has always kind of been a loner, even though he fits in wherever he is. It also dawns on me that he doesn’t try to fit any sort of mold. Hell, he blew off the American Music Awards. Who does that?
Eyes burning, I grab my phone and have to physically release it from my clutches to stop myself from calling him back, because “Gonna ask you to smile for me, Katy girl, and promise you I’m gonna do the same” runs through my mind. So instead, I craft a text in my mind before grabbing the phone and typing out the only words I really need him to see.- I’m with you. Always. ~Katy~
Send.
His response is immediate:
- Always have been, always will be. Always. Now get your hot peach of an ass ready for school. Hang with your momma and crew. When we talk later, I wanna hear all about it. Thank you for letting me love you. ~Brand~
When the second alarm, the one he didn’t turn off, blasts, I push myself out of our bed and grab a quick shower using his shower gel, his shampoo, and his conditioner so that I will smell like him. Then I throw on the shirt that he wore last night, wrapping myself in him, to head back to the big house to get ready with Truth and the girls.
Sneaking in the back door, I look around and am grateful I set the alarm for earlier than I needed to. I tiptoe toward the bedroom then freeze when I hear my dad clear his throat.
I look back at the couch and see him lying against the corner, Mom lying against his chest, both covered in a blanket, both obviously waiting for me.
“Morning,” I say, and then all the emotion I’ve been holding back comes to a head, erupting in a strangled cry and a waterfall of tears.
“Come here, Katy,” Dad says as Mom sits up and moves away from him, leaving a spot between them for me. They hug me, Mom tells me it will be okay, and Dad says nothing, not one word, but his hug is the tightest.
After several minutes, I am able to stop crying and whisper, “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be,” Mom says, pushing my wet hair away from my face. “You’ll be okay.”
I nod and tears burn my eyes again. “But he’s alone.”
“He has Nick and his band; he’s not alone,” Dad says, attempting to soothe me, which is almost laughable.
Both Mom and I look at him. Mom tries not to laugh, and he gives her the look.
“Don’t look at me like that, Carly. As much as I wanna hate the kid, I can’t. And believe me, I’ve tried.” He sighs out his annoyance then continues, “I remember promising your mother I’d make sure you finished school before I dragged you into my world. Brand’s doing the same.” He then sputters, “Fuck, I wish I didn’t like him.”
Mom does laugh now. “I’m pretty sure you felt the same way about Carter.”
He nods at her then narrows his eyes at me. “I know you love him, pretty sure he’s obsessed with you, but—”
“He isn’t,” I defend him.
“He is a little.” Mom sides with Dad. “But in more of a puppy wanting to be petted way than a serial killer way.”
“Jesus, Carly.” Dad forces a laugh.
“It’s adorable.” She shrugs and looks at me. “He messaged when he left. He wanted us to be available for you if you woke up and were upset with him after he left.” She smiles at Dad. “When I tried to roll over to tell—”
“Carly,” Dad growls in warning.
“Stow the badass, Steel,” she scolds him then looks back at me. “Your dad was out here, sitting at the window, to wave him off.”
“Wasn’t waving him off for any other reason than to—”
“Were, too. You like him. No, you love him. He is family already.”
Dad shrugs and stands up. “Gonna make breakfast before I shower for work. Any requests?”
“I’d say I can’t believe you didn’t even look at the clothes we grabbed you or even try on this lovely blazer, but I absolutely can, future Mrs. Brand freaking Falcon,” Truth says, holding up the required navy-blue blazer, edged in yellow with the Seashore emblem on the left breast pocket.
Trying to force myself to be present and very mindful that this is probably the most exciting and monumental moment for our crew, I set down my curling wand, turn, and smile. “It’s exciting, Truth, very exciting.”
She looks at me, skeptical of my excitement, but then she smiles sheepishly. “I’m so nervous.”
“I recognize that glint. What did you do?”
She grins and hurries toward me, holding up her phone. “I found an app. It’s kind of like a dat
ing app, with bios for all the students at Seashore Academy, but it’s definitely not authorized by the school or the students themselves. I mean, there are reviews on performance.” Truth laughs.
I shake my head. “That’s so messed up.”
“Agreed, but there’s also kind of an unofficial school calendar with social events.”
“Social events?” I ask, holding my hand out.
She hands it to me. “Yeah, some are even password protected.”
“That sounds kind of danger—”
“Like something you’d have loved BB.” She takes the phone back.
“BB?”
“Before Brand.”
“Same girl,” I remind her.
“Not sure about that,” she taunts.
And like a fish to a hook, I take her bait. But, unlike a fish, I know I won’t swallow the hook.
I arch a brow. “How do you get a hold of the password?”
She grins. “Not sure, but I bet we’ll figure it out.”
Max pokes his head into our room. “T minus sixty minutes before the first day of our teenage lives actually begins. Get your ass dressed already, Kiki.”
“Just have to get dressed, Geesh.” I try to act annoyed by my little brother, but I find myself getting sucked into his and Truth’s excitement.
He points at me. “You know they’re gonna make us pose for a million pictures, so—”
“Ten minutes, Max,” I promise.
Following Justice, whose vehicle is full of all the boys, while mine has us girls, I turn right on Academy Drive and Tris, Brisa, and Truth all squeal as Truth grabs my phone off the console, types in my passcode, and then hits my music app. The song, “Savage” by Megan Thee Stallion, starts, and all four of us sing along.
We slide our vehicles in the two side by side spots available right up front. Then I kill the engine and hear “Life is Good” by Drake blasting from Justice’s vehicle as we grab our bags and pile out.
“Early bird gets the worm.” Max throws his arm around my shoulders. “Think maybe we can keep this up for the rest of the school year?”
