Kindred Spirit: Book Five of the Bound Spirit Series

Chapter 12

Felix

It’s been a month since we discussed possibly turning me into a thrall, and as I stand staring down at my own grave, I wonder what the hell I am even doing anymore. This afternoon, we’re celebrating my eighteenth birthday, except I never got my seventeenth. I know I should be glad it’s only a year difference, but I can’t help grieving the life I lost. I’ll never turn seventeen. My parents will never sing “Happy Birthday” to me again while I blow out the candles on one of my mom’s homemade cakes. I’ll never just be Felix.

Callie rests her head on my shoulder and squeezes my hand. “You’re thinking pretty hard, Casper. Want to talk about it?”

“I’m supposed to be an adult now, but I don’t feel very adulty,” I answer after releasing a pent-up sigh.

She thinks about her response, her head swaying as she ponders. “I don’t turn eighteen for another two weeks, so I could be wrong, but I think adulthood isn’t really a number, but a series of experiences.” She looks up at me with her clear gray eyes that have seen too much. “You may not feel like an adult, but you have experienced things that no one can fully understand. Being a kid requires innocence we no longer possess.”

Her words settle on me like a weighted mantle. I’ve died. My parents died. All I understood about the world shattered that night when demons found us sleeping in our beds and burned our bodies on a pyre in the backyard. I know violence, pain, and loss. I know what it is to walk in this world without being a part of it. I know what it is to face my own extinction. Bones and ash lie buried at my feet with my name etched in memory over them, but I’m still here. I lift my face to the sky and feel the heat of the sun on my skin. I’m still here.

“Okay, I’m an adult, but not like an adulty adult,” I joke, pulling her into my arms.

Callie tips her face toward mine, a sweet smile playing on her lips as the sunlight turns her blonde waves of hair gold. “Need different experiences for that, but we have time. This is only the beginning.”

I tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “I look forward to having them all with you.”

Her eyes crinkle in the corners as her smile grows. “Sometimes, I dream of a future where we’re all together doing normal things. We all go off to the same college, and instead of living in dorms, we get a big house together. There are no demons, magic, or higher callings. We study together, eat together, and just… live, ya know.”

“Don’t give up on your dream,” I murmur, kissing the tip of her nose. “If I’ve learned anything since you moved here, it’s that you have a tendency to make the impossible possible.”

She scrunches up her face like she’s thinking really hard and nods. “Okay. I’ll find a way.”

“But not alone,” I promise, hugging her. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” she echoes, and lifts up on the tips of her toes to kiss me.

It’s slow and a little awkward—I have a hard time knowing when a kiss should turn into a French kiss—but by the end, I’m left breathless.

Callie snuggles into my embrace and looks down at the etched marble at our feet. “It’s sad that we didn’t meet before, but if you weren’t haunting my room that first day, I don’t know if I would be as happy as I am right now.” She groans and buries her face against my chest. “That sounds awful, like I’m happy you died. I’m not. I’m just grateful for you and all that you continue to bring to my life.”

“I know,” I laugh, giving her an exaggerated squeeze and rocking her side to side. “We’re morbid, but not that morbid.”

“Speaking of, why did you want to spend your birthday morning at the graveyard instead of, I don’t know, going to get breakfast?” she asks with a raised brow.

“It’s time for me to say goodbye,” I answer, my chest tight over the thought of it. “If I’m going to give this new life a chance, I have to let the old one go.” My voice drops to a whisper. “But I don’t know how.”

She thinks for a moment, her hands making gentle trails up and down my spine. “Try talking to yourself. The old you, I mean.”

“And say what?” I ask, my tone curious.

“I don’t know,” she replies, poking me in the side. “Your regrets. What you’ll miss. Reassure old you that things are going to work out because they will work out. Even though you’ve taken a new path, you’re not alone.”

“Okay, okay!” I laugh, grabbing her hands and stepping out of our embrace before she can poke me again. Squatting down next to my old body’s final resting place, I tug some of the ambitious grass away from the plaque. “Hey… Felix?” I talk to inanimate objects all the time, so one would think this wouldn’t be weird, but it is.

I glance up at Callie, and she nods with encouragement, mouthing, “Keep going.”

Placing a hand against the sun-warmed stone, I continue, “It, uh, sucks that you died. There’s so much you’ll never experience—having Dad teach you to drive, Mom fussing over prom, going to MIT. Hell, your first kiss was as a ghost in your girlfriend’s dream.”

Callie covers her face and groans. “I didn’t know it was you you. Goddess, I can’t believe you saw all that.”

“The leather pants were a really nice touch,” I tease, smirking up at her. “And I’ll never look at chocolate sauce the same way again.”

“I will leave you here to walk home if you don’t get back to talking to yourself,” she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. “Wow, that sounds really odd out loud.”

“Context is everything.” I chuckle and then get back to the very difficult task of saying goodbye. “I know you thought your life was boring, but it wasn’t. It was safe and loving with the best parents anyone could have hoped for. You also didn’t know half the shit that was going on around you. Ignorance can be a blessing sometimes.” I clear my throat as it becomes harder to speak with the growing emotions building inside me. “But now you know, and because of that, you’re even closer with the guys. Silver lining, I guess. Death is usually the end of things, but for you, it’s both the end and the beginning. You also met the girl of your dreams—turns out it’s not Ashley Fisher.”

“Damn right it’s not,” Callie mumbles under her breath, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing, which eases some of the sadness growing inside me. Looking up at her, I hold out my hand, and she takes it. “Not only is she the most amazing person you’ve ever met, but she also makes you a better person. You’re insanely lucky that she gave you the time of day when you haunted her bedroom, and you managed to get her to fall in love with you.”

Her smile grows, crinkling the corners of her eyes, and she squeezes my hand.

Not letting her go, I turn my attention back to the gravestone. “I’m sorry you and James had to die to give me this chance for a new life, but I promise to take care of it. The future may not be the way you expected it to be, but I’ll do my best to make it something you’d both be proud of.”

Brushing dirt from my hands, I rise and give old me a small farewell salute. I take a few steps to my parents’ graves, Callie trailing behind me. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. I know you’re not really here. You’re probably frolicking in afterlife paradise, but in case you can hear me, I want you to know that I’ll be okay. I still have the guys, and I have an awesome girlfriend you would totally love. Also, although they can never replace you, James’s family and friends are really good people.” My eyes begin to sting with tears, and it becomes harder to speak, my voice growing raspy. “I don’t want to hurt them any more than they already are, so I’m… I’m going to give us a chance to be a real family. I’ll never stop loving you, but I need… Fuck!” I use the heel of my hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. “I need to let you go.”

Callie wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head against my back. “From the stories you told me, they loved you very much. I’m sure they are glad to know you’re not alone, and that you have a new family who will love and care for you.”

I nod because it’s too hard to speak.

She plants a kiss on the middle of my back and then walks around me. Kneeling in front of my parents’ graves, she adjusts her pink, spring dress so it modestly surrounds her. “Hi, I’m the girlfriend.” She gives a small wave. “You’ll be happy to know that I love your son very much, and I promise to stick by him. We all wish you could be here, but I want you to know that you did a really good job raising Felix. He saved my life just by being himself. Every person he lets in his heart are better people because of it.” Placing her hand on the grass, she closes her eyes, and a gentle wind shakes the leaves of the surrounding trees. “Your son is a gift, and I’m sure the Thomas’s will see that. Please look after their son as they look after yours.” As if watching a time-lapse video on fast forward, wildflowers begin to bloom over my parents’ graves. She opens her eyes and gently runs her fingers over the new buds. “You won’t be forgotten.”

I help her to her feet, and while she brushes away bits of grass from her hands and knees, I murmur, “Thank you. My mom always liked wildflowers.”

Callie smiles sweetly and takes my hand, our fingers lacing together. “It’s okay to keep both your parents and the Thomas’s in your heart. It’s not a betrayal of either. Love isn’t finite.”

My head bobs up and down, acknowledging that I understand. “Think we’ve been away long enough for the party to be set up?”

She looks up at the sky, appearing to gauge the time based on the sun’s position. “I think so.” Her smile turns to a grin. “Let’s go celebrate your not so adulty adultness.”

Callie and I walk hand in hand to my new truck. Well, new to me truck. It’s a fifteen-year-old Ford that was given a serious tune-up before James’s dad—my dad—handed me the keys. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had no idea how to drive my new birthday present, so I clumsily backed out of the driveway with Callie coaching me the whole way. As soon as we were out of sight, we swapped places. Her birthday present to me is driving lessons, and more time alone with her sounds like the best gift I could ask for.

∞∞∞

There are so many cars parked around my house that we have to drive a block away to find a spot. Balloons, streamers, and cardboard baseball paraphernalia point the way to my front door, and the sounds of chatter and music pour from the open windows. A sickening sense of dread fills my stomach as I fight to put a smile on my face. There will be many people to disappoint when I don’t remember them.

Callie wraps her arms around mine and leans up to kiss the underside of my jaw. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

“Sure,” I reply, fighting a little harder for that smile.

“You’ll see.” She reaches out and raps three times on the door.

The music is turned down, and the chatter inside changes to giggling shushing. I look quizzically down at Callie. It’s not a surprise party, so I don’t know why everyone is acting so weird. She grins up at me and then opens the door.

A loud cheer of, “Happy birthday,” greets us as we walk in, and my smile is a little wooden until I notice everyone is wearing “Hello, my name is:” stickers on their chests. Not only is everyone wearing name tags, but below each name is their relation to me. Just like the cheat sheet binder Steven made me.

Callie pulls two stickers from her pocket and hands me one. They are name tags like everyone else’s, except mine just says “Birthday Boy,” My smile is wobbly but genuine as I watch Callie peel hers off its backing and place it on the left side of her chest— “Callie (Girlfriend).”

“Unky Jams!” shouts a toddler wearing a ballerina tutu and a pastel rainbow unicorn headband. She races at me full speed, running into my legs, and then raises her arms to be picked up. After hoisting her up on my hip, she looks very serious as she states, “Mommy said your memory isn’t good, so we wear the stickers with our names on it. Mine has unicorn stickers that sparkle.” She points at her name tag that has “Madison (Niece)” written on it, surrounded completely by various puffy unicorn stickers that are also shades of pastels.

A solemn, slightly older boy follows his sister toward me, his hands twisting the bottom of his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt. “I’m Jayden.”

“I remember from my welcome home party,” I reply, my heart lodged in my throat.

He nods and then stares at his feet, clearly unsure what else to do, while a room full of people watch like they are waiting for permission to get back to the party. I was an only child, so I have no idea how to interact with small kids. The few I have interacted with were more like my niece, chattering away with little need of input.

Callie squats down so she’s about eye level with my nephew. “Who’s your favorite turtle? Mine’s Donatello.” She smirks up at me. “I’ve always liked the smart ones.”

His expression turns serious as he immediately starts arguing the merits of Michelangelo’s superiority over Donatello, namely that nunchucks are way cooler than a “big stick.” Having done his duty to introduce himself to his uncle, he takes Callie’s hand and drags her upstairs to show her the toys he brought with him. So much for my human shield.

A woman in her mid-twenties, who has the same ash blonde hair as me, smiles at the kids with tear bright eyes. Her name tag reads, “Margo (Luckiest Big Sister).”

My eyes sweep the rest of the crowd who are all crammed into the living room. Most of the baseball team is here, each of their name tags having something ridiculous written under their names like “Teammate Who Loves Pickles.” Dave’s tag is more thoughtful with “Best Friend for Life.” Family members who I haven’t seen since my welcome home party lounge on the furniture, all of them wearing encouraging smiles.

The guys are littered amongst the crowd with simply “Friend” written on their tags. That’s an enormous understatement, but it’s hard to encapsulate all that they are to me in a few words. Connor stands behind Nolan, who’s sitting on his walker. Lately, he’s had more bad days than good, and his fatigue has gotten so severe it’s difficult for him to stand for long periods of time. Donovan is leaning against the doorframe that leads to the kitchen, and Kaleb is with the rest of the team.

In the heart of the crowd are James’s parents—my new parents. Steven places a hand on the base of his wife’s spine and gives her a gentle nudge toward me. Her forest green eyes glisten, and she looks unsure as she approaches, her mouth pulling down at the corners.

Madison notices her grandmother’s discomfort and holds out her hands. “Don’t be sad, Grandma. I give you hug.” I transfer the wiggling child over, and she squeezes her grandmother’s neck before kissing her hard on the cheek. “Kiss and make better.”

“Thank you, Maddie,” she replies, her smile warm with deep laugh lines gathering about the corners of her eyes. Adjusting the toddler on her hip, she takes a deep breath and then holds out her hand. Confused, I take it, and she gives it a solid handshake. “Hi. I’m Sandra. Your mother. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

It’s such a bittersweet thing to hear. My mother. She isn’t, but she could be if I let her. Not wanting to cry in front of everyone, I blink hard, and my lips pull into another wobbly smile. This is all I’ve wanted since I woke up in that hospital bed—a fresh start where I can just be me.

“Now say your name,” Madison whispers loudly, and the whole room laughs, the tension-filled bubble bursting under the manners of a toddler. She looks around with a confused frown. “Mommy says it’s rude not to say your name when they tell you theirs. That’s how you make friends.” She tilts her head to the side, her lips pressed tightly together in thought. “Daddy says only say my name to other kids and trusted adults. It’s okay. You can trust Grandma.”

“You’re right,” I agree with a wet chuckle. Looking into Sandra’s hopeful gaze, I give her hand a shake. “Hi. I’m… James. Your son… and I’d like that.”

“Can I… Can I give you a hug?” she asks quietly enough that if I turn her down, only Madison will hear. When I nod, her whole face lights up with joyous relief.

With a toddler sandwiched between us, I embrace the shorter woman, and she shudders against me, mumbling how sorry she is into my shoulder. I offer shushing noises of comfort while actively trying to relax my body. Guilt eats away at me again, but I do my best to push it down. This is about new beginnings. When we pull apart, my T-shirt is wet, and there are tear tracks down her cheeks.

“Why sad, Grandma?” my niece asks with concern.

Sandra kisses the child on the cheek. “These are happy tears. Sometimes grandmas get big feelings, and we need to cry to let them out.”

Madison nods like she’s just been offered the answers to the cosmos. “I get big feelings too. I take nap and feel better.” Apparently finished with the adults, she suddenly starts wiggling and huffing. “Down now!”

“Please,” Margo reminds her youngest.

“Peas,” my niece echoes, her face starting to turn red.

“Please, what?” Sandra says in a way that implies this isn’t the first time they’ve done this routine.

She throws her weight back and whines, “Peas, put down now.” Once she’s placed back on her feet, she runs full speed at her mom and tugs on her jeans. “Mommy, I gotta poop.”

The “Luckiest Big Sister” picks up her child around the waist and holds her like a football. “Ah, motherhood,” she laments with a chuckle and then carries her past me to the hallway bathroom.

Despite a strong urge to follow my niece’s advice of going up to my room to have some big feelings and take a nap, I put on my happy face. Rubbing my belly, I ask with exaggerated excitement, “So where’s the food?”

Sandra laughs, wiping away some of her tears. “Boys and their hollow legs.”

“Come on, son,” Steven says, gesturing for me to follow him. “I’m going to teach you how to grill.”

“I have to cook my own birthday lunch?” I complain, but it’s delivered like I’m doing a skit for the audience.

“Every man should know how to grill their own food,” states a man who looks like an older version of Steven. His tag says, “Jack (Uncle).” He gets up from the couch with a soda in his hand, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and commences to share the ins and outs of how to grill a proper steak while walking us out into the backyard.

The house is modest, but a lot of work has clearly been done to the backyard. An outdoor kitchen with a massive grill sits to one side of the concrete patio covered by a wooden pergola. The other side has a full set of patio furniture surrounding a built-in brick fire pit. Out in the grass beyond is a netted batting cage with a target/rebound trainer. A rack of bats, gloves, helmets, and a bucket full of baseballs is nearby. Now that the heartfelt opening to the celebrations are over, the music is turned back up, and everyone returns to hanging out. To the shock of no one, some of the team members beeline for the batting cage.

It’s late June, and the sky is a clear, vibrant blue. It’s a perfect day for a birthday BBQ, and part of me wonders if it was Callie or just Mother Nature who made it possible. There’s a huge spread of food laid out on a plastic table that guests already dug into before I got here. A bug repellent candle burns away, doing its part to ward off insects that would like their own nibble. A cooler full of water and soft drinks sits off to the side. Ever since the accident, no alcohol is allowed in the house, and part of the terms of releasing me from being grounded was that I wouldn’t touch the stuff until I turned twenty-one. Not a hard ask for me since the idea of drinking and partying pales in comparison to staying home and playing video games—just another thing James and I differ on.

Under the careful tutelage of Dad and Uncle, I grill the hotdogs and burgers. It’s not exactly difficult, and I realize its real purpose is to have me in a single spot for people to find me.

When the first burgers are ready, Dave and “Loves Pickles” comes over. I point to Pickles’s nametag, and ask, “What’s that all about?”

He glances down, as if he forgot what he wrote, and then laughs. “When we won our first game freshman year, Coach took us to Rocky’s. That’s a sub sandwich place.”

“Yeah, it’s on the corner of 12th and Main,” I comment, placing one of the burgers with cheese onto a bun.

“It’s so weird what you remember,” Pickles comments, which earns a hard elbow from Dave. “What? It is.”

“I’ve, uh, been there recently,” I lie, handing him the plate. “Not like there are a lot of sub shops in Twin Cedar Pass.”

“That’s true,” Pickles acknowledges, stepping over to the counter where the toppings are set up on different paper plates. “Anyway, they always put in a whole pickle with every order. You said you hated anything pickled, but you also hated wasting food. I said that I would take it, but before you would give it to me, I had to promise that I could eat all of my food too.” He starts putting toppings on his burger, skipping the raw onions. “I did, so from then on out, any time there were pickles with your food, you gave them to me.” He shrugs. “Sorry, it’s not super exciting, but it was all I could think of besides we play baseball together, which you already know.” After putting a moderate amount of pickles on his burger, he pops the other half of the bun on top and looks back at me. “Do you still hate pickles?”

“Indifferent to them now,” I answer, placing another cheeseburger on a bun.

“Oh.” He looks disappointed for a moment before shrugging again. “Well, if you decide you don’t like them after all, I’ll still take them.”

“Thanks, man,” I reply, feeling awkward and wishing I lied. Who knew pickle sharing could be so important?

When I try to hand the next cheeseburger over to Dave, he looks apologetic. “I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Crap, sorry.” I quickly grab a new plate with a new bun, only to realize all the burgers have cheese on them. “I can make you a new one.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he insists.

Pickles snorts. “As long as you don’t mind explosive farts. Remember that summer when we did that overnight training camp, and you nearly gassed us out of the cabin? If it wasn’t for James strong-arming all of the windows open, we might have died.”

Dave’s lightly tanned skin turns brilliant shades of red. “I didn’t know then.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” I counter with a quirk of my lips.

“You remember?” Pickles’s eyes grow round with shock.

I shake my head and laugh. “No. I don’t remember anything about my life, but that means, anything in the past is possible, so now, in my version of events, it never happened.”

He frowns in thought, trying to piece together the logic of my statement, and walks away. This should take him a while to figure out, since what I said makes no sense.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the past works,” Dave comments, but he seems happier, which was what I was going for.

“Eh, history is rewritten all the time,” I reply, and then I motion to the hotdogs on the grill. “These are ready and cheese free if you don’t want to wait.”

His tone is casual, but there’s something deeper in his eyes when he answers, “I don’t mind waiting.”

Not wanting to unpack that in front of Steven and Jack, I announce brightly, “One cheeseless burger, coming up!”

It doesn’t take too long for the new burger to cook, and Dave is sent on his way so the next person can be served.

Casually and not so casually, different guests come by and chat, telling me stories and explaining inside jokes, parceling out James’s history. It’s different from my welcome home party, where everyone was trying to trigger memories that no longer existed. This time, it’s done like a highlight reel, each person explaining how we’re connected.

For the first time, everyone treats me like I’m someone new, separate from the James they remember. It feels right, as if I’m sharing the day with him. We’re celebrating who he was while I’m also free to be me. I share the “new” things about myself since the accident, like my sudden gift with math and my interest in robotic engineering. Steven beams with pride, bragging how I’m getting privately tutored by one of my teachers because I’m so far beyond my classmates. It’s nice to hear him excited about something I’m actually good at. I’m trying with baseball, but no amount of training will put me on the same level as James. He was truly gifted.

Donovan, Connor, and Nolan keep to themselves for the most part, not really gelling with everyone else. Even on their best behavior, they stand out, something about them marking them as other or more than the rest of us. It never occurred to me how much effort they put in to blend in every day, and what it meant that they invited me, an ordinary human, into their circle. Kaleb is running himself ragged to fit the mold of “normal,” a never-ending balancing act of being exceptional within the proper confines of expectation. He’s wearing his “on” face, smiling and pleasant, and I just want to tell him it’s okay to sit down with the rest of the guys. For just a little while, he can relax and be himself.

I’m starting to get the hang of things when Callie comes outside with a pensive look on her face that turns into a forced smile when she sees me. Handing the grilling responsibilities back over to the pros, I walk over and pull her into my arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she answers with a shake of her head, but it’s a poor lie.

Knowing I’m not going to find any privacy out here, I lead her back inside and toward the stairs. Teammates joke that we shouldn’t stay up there too long, because it’s not that kind of party. I laugh awkwardly, which I hate. It’s a nervous reaction instead of what I should do, which is to tell them to shut the hell up. However, Callie is distressed, and I’d rather get to the bottom of what’s going on with her.

Once we reach my bedroom, I tug her inside and close the door. “It’s just us. What’s going on?”

She wrings her fingers together and looks around the room. “You know, I’ve never been up here.”

I pull her against me, her back to my chest, and kiss the top of her head. Gently turning her at the waist, I point at various things in the room. “There’s the TV, the closet, the bed, the desk, and…” I spin us all the way around. “The dresser. You’ve now had the full tour of my bedroom.”

“Lots of green,” she comments, leaning back to observe the forest green striped wallpaper.

“James’s favorite color,” I explain, resting my head on top of hers. “It’s starting to grow on me.”

Callie places her hands on top of mine. “What’s yours?”

“Orange, but like the darker burnt orange, not the neon, highlight color,” I answer and flex my fingers out until they intertwine with hers. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing,” she repeats, but there’s a hitch in her voice. “I’m just being sensitive, and I don’t want to ruin today for you.”

My jaw clenches, but I do my best to keep my voice even. “Who said what?”

Her shoulders droop as she sighs. “After I left Jayden playing with his toys, I was going to offer Sandra some help, and I overheard her talking to her sister, Kathy, in the kitchen.”

“About?” I press, disappointed that the little progress we made as mother and son earlier is about to be dashed.

Gently extracting my hands from her, she moves to sit on the side of my bed and begins running the hem of her dress between her fingers. “I think she misses Bree. They seemed to have a really close relationship, and I’m not her.”

I kneel in front of Callie, resting my hands on her bare knees and ignoring the impulse to slide them up her thighs. Having a libido again is really distracting sometimes. “What did she say?”

“She said that… she wished you two could have worked it out,” Callie answers reluctantly, chewing on her bottom lip.

“And what else?” I ask, knowing that alone wouldn’t distress her to this degree.

Her dress falls over my fingers when she releases the hem to cross her arms. This does nothing to help my distracted state, since I’m eye level with her cleavage. “It was implied that there is only one reason a teenage boy would choose to be with a girl who has multiple boyfriends.”

Feeling guilty, I rip my hands away and sit next to her on the bed. “You know that’s not true, right?”

Callie looks at me like I said the dumbest thing ever. “Of course I know it isn’t true. You’ve seen all of the horrible things I’ve been through firsthand. If all you wanted was sex, then there are much easier ways to go about it, even as a ghost.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I admit, “When I was a ghost, I didn’t have any physical feelings. I had some when we shared your dreams. It felt so real at the time, but the sensations pale in comparison to what it feels like to be with you in the real world.” I swallow heavily, my anxiety doing a whole dance number in my stomach, and look up into her eyes. “So when I tell you that I have loved you since the moment we met” —I place my hand flat over my heart— “I mean it started here.”

She’s quiet as tears build in her eyes and drip down her cheeks. Her lips twist into a weighted smile, and her chin quivers.

Panicked, I quickly start babbling. “That doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive, or that I don’t feel anything physically for you, because I do. Ever since I could, I very much did. It’s really distracting sometimes, to be honest.” I hold up my hands as if to hold off her arguments. “Not that it’s something you should worry about. I’m not some asshole who makes my urges your problem. I can take care of myself.” The blood drains from my head as I realize what I just admitted to. “Not that I’m doing that every time we’re together. I mean, I do sometimes, but like a normal, healthy amount, not time for an intervention amount.” I rest my elbows on my knees, bury my face in my hands, and groan. “Please, say something so I stop talking.”

“You were my very first friend,” she shares, resting her hand on my shoulder. “Before you, I was alone—too scared to let anyone get close to me. Too scared that if anyone learned too much about me, the bastard would take my only safe haven away.” Her hand travels from my shoulder to my back, making soft, comforting circles. “Then I came here, and you befriended me even when I was sure you were a figment of my imagination.” We both chuckle over the memory, and she uses her free hand to tug one of mine away from my face. When I dare to look at her again, her smile grows even as her eyes remain bright with tears. “You were the catalyst to a life I never even dared to dream of. I love you so much that it takes my breath away. It fills me so completely that I… I don’t know how to describe it. I feel like it will burst out of me.”

“Like in Aliens?” I ask, because apparently stupid falls out of my mouth when sincerity is pointed at me.

Fortunately, my girlfriend rocks, and she laughs. “Yes, my love is like a xenomorph that will burst out of my chest, because it can’t be contained.”

“You’re so hot when you talk geek,” I murmur, leaning over and kissing her.

Callie wraps her arms around my neck and mutters, “Did you know that the velociraptor’s barking call in Jurassic Park is two tortoises mating?”

“Sexy,” I reply with a laugh and kiss her again.

This time I’m more thorough, parting her lips with my tongue, and she moans as she happily relents. She tastes like strawberries, and her scent of pomegranates and orchids teases my nose. Since coming back to life, every sensation is heightened, and I feel overwhelmed in the best way possible. She is my dream come true, and I want to exist in this moment with her forever.

We fall back onto the bed, and I relish the feeling of her body underneath mine—soft and warm against my larger, firmer physique. I rest most of my weight on my forearm, my other hand following the tantalizing lines of her body. Her nails drag down my scalp as she tips her chin up, leading my lips to her neck. Following pure instinct, I suck the tender flesh into my mouth and graze it with my teeth. She moans again, a husky sigh that sets my body ablaze.

Desperate to feel the heat of her skin against my fingertips, I reach underneath the skirt of her dress and up her thigh. She feels like silk beneath my touch. My heart hammers in my chest, and I’m so hard I’m ready to bust a seam when she relaxes her thighs, her knees naturally falling open. My kisses travel farther down, over her chest to the swell of her breasts, as my hand slips to her inner thigh. She breathes in erratic pants, tugging on the back of my shirt, until I finally sit up long enough to take it off.

Callie reaches up to cup my face, running her thumb along the planes of my cheek. “I love you, Felix, and no matter what you look like, I will always see you.” She places her other hand on my bare chest. “I see you here—your brilliant spirit, so full of warmth and tenderness. You are my shining light when things seem to be at their darkest.”

I didn’t realize how much I worried that her interest in me stemmed from this new body until she said those words. When she looks at me, she still sees the real me. The realization hits me like a freight train, and now I feel like I’m going to burst with a xenomorph force of love.

Guiding her arms back around my neck, I lean down and kiss her deeply. When we take our first gasps of air, I whisper, “I see you too. More than your magic. More than your past. I see you. A smart, funny, caring person who makes me feel so grateful to have a second chance at life, if only so I get to spend it with you.”

Seemingly too overwhelmed to speak, she tugs at my shoulders until I’m once again lying half on top of her. The sticker on the front of her dress crinkles under the weight of my body and feels slightly itchy against my bare skin. It’s a fleeting observation, gone immediately when her fingers fist in my hair, and she once again claims my mouth.

My entire being becomes hot, and all rational thought gleefully flees. Considering nothing beyond my all-consuming need for her, I reach underneath her dress. My hand runs boldly up her inner thigh, until my fingers brush against the soft cotton of her panties. She gasps as I stroke her through the damp fabric, arching her back and widening her legs. I’ve never done this before and have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but I know what I want to feel—all of her.

Beads of sweat drip down my temples as the room suddenly feels like a sauna. Callie’s dress sticks to her skin, her body glistening from the added heat. I marvel at the way she squirms and bucks beneath my touch, and a pleasurable tension builds inside me, starting at my groin and radiating outward. I don’t understand how, since her fingers are currently clawing at my back, but I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of my own climax.

It’s at this inopportune moment that there’s a loud knock on my door, and we leap apart from each other like scared rabbits.

“Uh, who is it?” I yell, scrambling to get my shirt back on while Callie attempts to fix her dress.

“It’s your dad,” announces a deep voice from the other side of the stupidly unlocked door.

“Just a sec.” After quickly finger combing my hair, I stumble over to the door and open it, hoping to use my body to block Callie from view. “Hi, what’s up?”

The knowing, humored look that crosses his face makes it clear we are fooling no one. “It’s time to cut the cake.” Steven looks over my shoulder then does a sweep of my sweaty state. “Might want to take a minute to, uh, freshen up. Your girlfriend is welcome to use our bathroom.”

“We weren’t—” I try to deny, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

“You’re an adult now, son,” he states, his tone even and conversational. “What you do in your room is your business, but a word of advice?”

“Yeah?” I reply, squinting as I prepare for whatever hell is about to drop on my head.

“Maybe next time wait until all of your family and friends aren’t downstairs looking for you,” he suggests, a bemused smile taking over his face. “And you should probably lock the door when you’re… entertaining company. I don’t think your sister is quite ready to explain the birds and bees to Maddie just yet.”

The idea of my niece interrupting Callie and me is horrifying. It must show up on my face, because Steven starts laughing.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” he says, both eyebrows raised as he tries to swallow more laughter. “Now, don’t take too long. Your mother made your favorite—chocolate with strawberry jam filling.” Suddenly awkward, he rubs the back of his neck. “Well, what used to be your favorite anyway. If it’s something else now, tell her tomorrow. It’s pretty good either way.”

My chest instantly feels tight, and I do my best to hide the crushing weight of memories behind a tight smile. Since I was old enough to pick what cake I wanted, it’s been chocolate with strawberry jam. As birthdays of the past flood my mind, I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry. Instead, I clear my throat and quietly reply, “Don’t worry. It’s still my favorite.”

“Good.” He smiles and nods. “That’s good.” He awkwardly flaps his arms at his sides and clears his throat. “Anyway, we’ll see you outside. Don’t take too long to, uh, clean up.”

“We won’t,” I reply, my voice reedy. Since I’ve never had a girlfriend before, I’ve never been caught with a girl before. Next time, I’ll definitely take Steven’s advice and wait until we’re home alone. How James managed to have a sex life is beyond me.

He does another awkward nod and then escapes down the hall.

Quickly closing the door, I lean back against it with a contrite expression. “Sorry about that.”

A blush stains Callie’s cheeks as she begins carefully finger combing her wayward tresses. “Not your fault. We got swept away in the moment.” She sighs. “I don’t think this is going to endear me to Sandra.”

Taking the few steps over to the bed, I sit next to her and gather her into my arms. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks.”

“I know, but I still want her to like me,” she admits, her hands falling to her lap. “I’ve never been a girlfriend before, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You’re doing a great job,” I insist, placing a quick kiss on her temple. “Now, let’s go downstairs and have some cake before they send someone else for us.”

“Do I look okay?” she asks, her gaze unsure as she bites her bottom lip.

Sitting back, I purposely do a slow, sweeping look of her body. I take in the way her hair falls messily around her shoulders, her kiss swollen mouth, the blush that spreads across her chest, and the way her dress hugs her curves. A full body throb pulses through me, and I desperately wish we were alone in the house.

Swallowing heavily, I answer, “You look beautiful, pretty girl.”

“If you say so,” she replies, fiddling to press down the corners of the sticker that have curled upward since we made out. When they refuse to stay down, she huffs a sigh and stands up. “Okay, let’s go eat some cake.”

After we walk downstairs hand in hand, I tell her that I’ll meet her outside, using the excuse that I need to take a leak real fast. She kisses me on the cheek and does as I ask, fussing with her hair and dress the whole way. Once she’s out of view, I head for the kitchen and find Sandra digging in a drawer, looking for candles.

When she finds them, she raises them in triumph, closes the drawer, and then gasps when she sees me. “Holy Mary and Joseph, you scared the you know what out of me.”

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and do my best Donovan impersonation. “Look, I’m only going to say this once. If you really want to build a new relationship with me, then you have to accept that Callie is my girlfriend. Bree and I are over.”

She looks hesitant, her hands gripping the candle package a little too tightly. “I do.”

“You don’t, but you will starting right now,” I insist, my expression growing hard. “I’m eighteen now and not legally obligated to live here. If you want me to stay, you will make Callie feel welcome.”

Shock takes over her face. “You’re giving your mother ultimatums?”

Frustration bubbles up inside me and colors my voice. “Right now, you’re not my mother. You’re a woman I met six months ago who’s spent most of that time wishing I was someone else.” I hate the pain that flashes within her gaze, but I need her to understand the stakes. “I didn’t lie. I want to get to know you, and I want you to get to know me, but not at the cost of my girlfriend feeling like she has to earn her place.”

“You really love this girl,” she observes, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I do.” Looking out the window over the kitchen sink, I quietly admit, “She saved my life—not just physically. When all of you were disappointed over who I wasn’t, Callie loved and accepted me as I am, no matter what that looked like.”

The tears break and fall down Sandra’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry, James. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to,” I announce, shoring up my own tender emotions.

She sniffs and blots at her face with her fingertips. “I will make sure Callie knows she’s welcome in our home.”

“Thank you.” Reaching over to retrieve a paper towel, I hand it to her so she can dry her face. Once she looks more put together, I wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go blow out some candles. I hear you made my favorite cake, and I’m dying for a slice before everyone else eats it all.”

Her expression brightens as hope floods her gaze. I’m worried that she may be reading too much into the fact that my favorite cake is the same as her son’s, but all she says is, “Don’t worry. I made two.”