FREAKS
Page 21
Fix sighed as he put down his beer on the counter. Slowly, his smile faded. He took a deep breath as he crossed the kitchen and placed his hands in the small of my back. He smelled like fresh cut grass, and the dusk, and the back field where Amy and I used to play when we were kids. He smelled like happiness.
“I used to see really dark, heavy, fucked up shit every day of the week back when I worked for the church. But not on Saturdays. Saturdays were fucking beautiful. They made me not hate the human race. I used to stand up there at the front of the church, and I used to look into the eyes of these two people who’d come to stand opposite me, and I would see the hope in their eyes. I would feel their love as it filled the building, and my fucking soul would ache because I knew you were out there. The other fucking half of me. And it seemed like the biggest tragedy of all time that we were never going to stand in front of a priest and knock him the fuck out with the brass-knuckled love we felt for each other. That we were never gonna look each other in the eye and fucking swear we were gonna protect each other and put each other first for the rest of time.
“I’m not bound by the restrictions that denied me that possibility back then, so yeah. It matters to me. It matters to me, now you’ve given me hope. You make me not hate the human race. You’ve made me believe that there are still reasons to try and be good. I want our Saturday, Sera, because I know it will be fucking beautiful.”
Well. Fuck.
The raw intensity in his eyes made me want to hide, but I couldn’t. I was never going to hide from this man. Walking forward with him was terrifying, but…I was going to find a way to do it. Because he was right. A future with him really would be fucking beautiful. It’d be complicated and messy, and we were going to fight like cat and dog, but in the end, we were going to climb mountains together. We were going to face down the darkness together. We were going to set the world on fire.
I tilted my face up to his, offering him a shy smile; my hands shook as I reached up to wind my arms around his neck. “Okay, then. Fine,” I whispered. “I give in. Ask me your question.”
He bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth. I knew there was some caustic comment on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free, but he masterfully reined himself in. The very first time in history, I imagined. His grin nearly split his face apart. “First. Spoiler alert. Is the answer going to be yes?”
He already knew, though. He already knew it would be.
“Yes, you unbearable asshole. Of course it will be. Now get on with it. I want to see that ring.”
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Writing as Frankie Rose
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Callie Hart is an obsessive romantic who loves throwing a dark twist into her stories. Her characters are imperfect, flawed individuals who dictate when she eats, sleeps and breathes. Callie loves to travel, and often pens her books when she's on the road, drawing inspiration from her unique and wild surroundings.
If she's not writing, you'll undoubtedly find her with her nose buried deep in a book, or rewatching the Battle of the Bastards episode from Game of Thrones and screaming like a lunatic.
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