14. Callie Rae #2
No matter how short-lived this hit may be, it’s the rush that’s going to get me through the withdrawal tomorrow.
My body pummels into his solid torso before a wave of bubbly liquid hits me. The wetness seeps through my top, sticking to my skin and a few locks of hair.
Brant’s arm snakes around me while nudging the culprit. “Hey, watch it,” he calls out.
My water is snuggled between us, and I can’t stop the chuckle that escapes me. All the while he berates the drunken bystander.
His fingers tip my chin up, and I’m still giggling when he pulls back. “Shit,” he mutters. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, only for him to strip his hand from me. He cloaks it with the hem of his shirt, lifting it to press against my saturated sleeve.
“It’s okay. Really, I’m fine,” I assure him.
My eyes lower as he stands against me. I catch his inked V-line above his leather belt, and all the amusement drains from my chest. On instinct, my fingertips softly trace the pointed end of a wing.
A bird’s wing.
A dove’s wing.
A shallow breath escapes me as I trail my fingers downward. But my journey is forced to stop when I grace the denim at his waistline.
The image sinks below his jeans. Hidden from the rest of the world unless you’re wrapped up in bed with him.
“Don’t ask,” he says, his voice rippling with a quiver.
He’s idled against my touch. His warm flesh simmers underneath it, and my eyes skate up to his, Fear strangles my voice when I realize how devastatingly alike we are.
It’s disgusting.
Sabotaging.
Then I focus on the thin chain dipping into the collar of his shirt. It dawns on me that I have yet to see what’s attached to it.
My stomach boils through an uproar of distress, knowing there’s no way I can wear Jesse’s ring with dignity for a second longer.
“We should go,” I whisper, a tremble wracking my bottom lip.
His nostrils gently flare, his body riddled with tension when he eventually nods.
I’m already swiveling around. My boots trek along the wood floor, and I snatch my crossbody on my way to the front doors. I sling the strap over my shoulder when I land on the sidewalk, my lungs gratefully ingesting the fresh air.
But soon as Brant slips beside me, I scrape up any defense I can.
“God, I should’ve known better with all that reverse psychology bullshit you spewed my way this morning,” I gasp.
“Excuse me?”
I harshly turn to him, flailing an arm at my side as my brows twist with irritation. “Telling me you don’t want my body unless it’s all yours. Knowing all you’re gonna do is make me think about that. You knew exactly what the hell you were doin’.”
His jaw ticks, his Adam’s apple bobbing through a tight gulp.
“You know what, Callie? Maybe you need to re-evaluate why you’re so goddamn distraught every time you’re around me.
” My face tightens with fury as he inches closer.
His hands hover over his chest now, an ache woven in his hazel irises.
“What? Y-you wanna take me for a test drive? Compare my skills to when I was a fumbling teenager. Then he gets to be the one to cuddle you in his arms for the night? Huh? Is that what you want?”
My teeth grind, eyes narrowing as I shake my head. “That is not wha—”
Brant’s head whips in rejection. “No, fuck that, Callie!” I suck a breath in, lips tucking as his gaze lights with a blaze. “Not with you.” He drops an arm between us, pointing a finger at the ground. “That is not how this works. Not with you.”
I swallow thickly, a stone trapped in my throat. “You don’t know what I want or need. Not anymore.”
“That’s just because you’re a lousy keeper of your word.”
Resentment frames his tone.
“What?” I scold.
He wags his head, more agony flooding his stare under the lamp post. “You never tried me first.”
My palms drop to the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. They sink into his firm torso, and my eyes skate between his. “I don’t care about any of that,” I croak.
He nods, only for a perceptive gleam to flicker across his hazel irises. “But if you want it,” he says lowly, “I’ll give that to you. Don’t just go lookin’ somewhere else for all that, Callie. Try me first, okay?”
I gulp tightly, registering the fear radiating from his stare.
Understanding it.
Because I share it.
“Okay,” I breathe, tilting my chin higher so his lips can land against mine. “Always.”
“I don’t have as much money as him, but I’d empty my bank account,” he continues.
“Fucking take out any loan to decorate you with all the fancy shit you desire. If that’s what you really want.
It doesn’t take any amount of talent or admirable power to do that.
” His fingers lift to gesture to my pear-shaped diamond studs.
“Expensive jewelry. A massive house with an enormous garden. A five-star vacation. You name it, and I’d hand it over to you. ”
My heart trips over a breath, chest rumbling with impending turmoil.
“But his money can never give you what you really want, and you know that. Deep down, you know it,” he challenges.
“Please just go,” I breathe. “I can’t stand here, listen to this, and trust myself at the same time.” My eyes pinch shut, a shiver wracking through me. “Please, just leave. I’m begging you, Brant. Please.”
I expect him to battle me on this, but the silence drags on and on.
It feels like a lifetime.
My skin flares with goosebumps when my shoulders are cloaked in a warm fabric. His hands gently tug the lapels of his flannel to the center of my chest, and my eyes finally welcome his.
His stubbled jaw is softened. His stare never leaves mine as he peels his hands away from me.
He stands before me in just a t-shirt, slipping his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m gonna trail behind you to make sure you get in your car. I’ll keep my distance. If that’s what you need, I can do that for you.”
My fingers clutch the lapels of his flannel when he leans to press his soft lips to my temple. A shudder rocks my core. My belly flips over and over before my eyes follow the way he backpedals to allow me space.
I tip a faint smirk his way before steering myself along the sidewalk. My fingers bring the fabric of his shirt under my nose, and I will his woodsy cologne to mark my blood.
A single whiff, and the turmoil inside of me settles from the raging winds. And if there’s one thing I could’ve taken with me from Willowhart, I’m grateful it’s the magic.