29. Brant
Brant
I walk through my bedroom door, greeted by a sleeping Callie. Her arms are raised above her head as her long waves spray across my navy pillowcase. The early sun leaks through the window at her right side, highlighting the contours of her nose and cheekbones.
I half-turn to click the door shut, knowing Sean’s home. A smirk sweeps across my lips as I pad closer to the bed. I notice her lengthy eyelashes laying peacefully through her slumber.
The Nexis t-shirt I lent her last night is huge on her.
But it’s never looked more fitting.
Carefully, I toe my sneakers off, situating my knee on the mattress. She squirms when my side of the bed dips, and I slowly climb over to nudge the tip of her nose with mine.
“Hey,” I whisper.
A tiny groan falls from her plump lips before she pivots her head away from me. I smile, leaning down to graze my mouth over her satin cheek.
“You have work,” I murmur. “Or did you forget to tell me you quit?”
I quirk a brow as I pull away, and she’s rubbing her eyes open with her fingers. “What time is it?” she mumbles.
“Six o’clock,” I answer. “But can you open your eyes? Because I feel stupid still carrying this thing.”
Her chin dips, her hooded gaze connecting with the sunflower I’m holding.
I twirl the fuzzy stem between my fingers, grinning when the corner of her lips curls up. “You have a garden too?” she jokes through a groggy voice.
I lightly chuckle, handing the flower to her. “Twenty-four-hour convenience store up the road.”
“Ah,” she says, “work smarter not harder.”
I maneuver my body when her knees bend up under the covers. I cross my arms over the hills of her legs, and her eyes admire the bold, yellow petals.
She brings the large center to her nose, and when her eyes close, a halo of warmth frames my heart.
She looks like the girl from Willowhart. Only, her beauty has blossomed like the sunflower she’s cradling.
She has peace living within her now.
Harmony crawls from inside of her, painting her cheeks a brighter shade of pink. Glimmering a stronger twinkle in those sage-green depths. Yanking the crooks of her mouth a centimeter higher.
She’s the vision I dreamed of for so many nights. Ever since I was eight years old.
The wait was too long, but it sure as hell was worth every tortured second to inhale this.
Her languid stare creeps into my sight. I’m reeled back to the moment with her, and the floral scent of her perfume blends with the remnants of our lovemaking. The sunlight is still crocheted through her brown hair, and she lays the sunflower against her chest.
Her fingers stroke my bicep through the sleeve of my hoodie. “Heels are not an option for work today,” she grumbles. “I truly don’t know how I didn’t break an ankle.”
“You’re a true champ, Cal,” I playfully retort, tapping her knee with my palm. “Most Valuable Player of the night.”
She shines her pearly whites as she giggles. “I have my moments, I suppose.”
My throat rolls, eyes narrowing as I stitch my gaze to hers. I allow the humor to fizzle out, and then I’m mildly wagging my head. “I don’t ever want to miss another moment with you.”
Her head shakes. “I don’t want to miss another moment with you.”
I straighten my posture, crisscrossing my legs. I settle my forearms on her raised knees again, gently clearing my throat before delivering my news.
As anxious as I am, I never want to keep anything from her.
I never did. And I never will.
That’s just the way it was always meant to be between us.
“Callie, I’m going to visit my mom this weekend,” I tell her.
She blinks through a stoic expression, and I grant her a few seconds. My stomach spirals, expecting her to pop up from the bed and sprint out through the door.
“I know I never went into detail when we went for drinks that first night, but she has cirrhosis. Her liver …” My voice tapers as I shake my head. “It’s scarred and not functioning properly.”
Callie lifts herself on her palms, eyes widening. “What?” she whispers, almost panicked.
“No, it’s not anything new,” I assure her.
“She has a home health aide that takes care of her a few times a month. It’s all I can afford right now without her insurance covering it,” I clarify, my chest constricting.
“She was diagnosed a couple years ago, but she’s in the intermediate stage.
I haven’t visited her this past month, and my heart tells me I should go see her.
” I’m swallowing thickly before I add, “So, that’s what I’m gonna do.
I’m going back to Willowhart this weekend. ”
My eyes dart to her rolling throat. “Well, I-I’ll go with you.”
“No, Callie,” I reject quickly. “I don’t want you going back there.”
Her brows incline, offense written all over her face. “Who are you to tell me where I go and don’t, huh? I said I wanna go with you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“I’m telling you no because I know all the skeletons,” I challenge.
Then I swing my legs off the bed to stand to face her.
“You haven’t looked back in ten years. Can you honestly say you’re prepared to handle it?
” I absently flail an arm out. “Don’t lie.
Especially to me. Because I’ll just call you out on your bullshit, and you know that. ”
Her lips tuck as she slams the sunflower on the bed to stand.
“Maybe I’m not, Brant. Okay?” she counters, hiking her shoulders as tears paint her green eyes.
“I don’t know if I’m ready or if I ever will be, but I know that I want to be wherever you are.
And I know that you’re acting strong about this, but deep inside it’s killin’ you.
I know that I want to be there for you. There’s nothing here that could keep me from riding to Willowhart with you.
Nothing.” She gulps tightly, and a wobbly breath sprints from her mouth.
“And if you try to shun me out of this trip, I’ll just jump in the bed of your truck when you’re not lookin’. Do you understand me?”
Her last threat almost has me smirking. But I inhale the urge, sinking my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.
“I always thought about bringing you back there,” I admit calmly.
“I always told myself that if I ever got the opportunity, I’d help you build the memories you were supposed to craft all those years ago.
Maybe enough of them that you’d want to return after.
Not to live there, but to visit with me.
” I eject a breath, ingesting another before I’m vomiting more words.
“I don’t want you to go to Willowhart for me.
I want you to go for you. Because that’s how you truly heal, Callie.
Not by running away. You heal by creating a better future. ”
Her eyes glisten uncontrollably as she steps closer to me. “I’m done running,” she croaks out. “I’m absolutely terrified, Brant. But I know I’m done running.”
My throat bobs as I close the last couple inches between us.
My arms cross around her shoulders just as hers snake up my back.
I plant my lips in her hair at the top of her head, and her cheek pastes to my chest. We fall into a position we’ve sunk into a million times before.
“Okay, I get that,” I hush. “Just don’t ever stop running toward me. ”
She wags her head in my embrace. “Never.”
* * *
Friday afternoon, we’re three hours into our five-hour drive. The two-lane road is smooth as it gently climbs and dips. Wildflowers and patches of grass line either side of it.
My truck lowly hums underneath us. The sound blends with the whizzing of the wind through the cracked windows. Across the center console, my palm finds Callie’s bare thigh, her velvet skin melting into my coarse palm like butter.
I sneak a glimpse at her, my stomach leaping like a teenager. My eyes trace her brown mini dress with these short sleeves that are mildly puffed. A square neckline to accentuate the swells of her full breasts. Her hem is flowy, and her white slip-on sneakers peek at me from the car floor.
She covers the top of my hand with her palm, and I flick my attention back to the open road. Our fingers reflexively tangle together, a smirk landing on my face.
I quickly release the wheel to spin my snapback forward as I say, “I thought for sure you’d have a song ringing through these speakers by now.”
When I chuck my eyes to her, her chestnut locks wag as she stares out the glass. “I didn’t expect the view to be this pretty,” she confesses lowly.
I swallow roughly when I shift back in my seat. The chafing of my jeans fills the silence momentarily. Pink and lavender hues decorate the horizon in the distance, framed by rows of pine trees.
And I figure she’s right.
There’s color and light.
Two things we could never cherish when we lived in West Virginia. They were always fleeting. Never hanging around long enough to stain our hearts permanently.
I unlock my hand from hers, reaching for the touch screen to tap to a Spotify playlist. Russell Dickerson’s “Blue Tacoma” vibrates through the truck, and Callie’s body whips to me. Her supple lips hover over the shell of my ear, and my elbow props on the console to brush my fingers under her chin.
“Your Tacoma is black. Not blue,” she purrs playfully.
My teeth graze my lower lip. “The sun is just starting to sink. Maybe it’ll look lighter if you peek out the window.”
I switch hands to control the steering wheel with my right. My free fingers connect with the toggle switch on my door, and Callie’s giggle collides with the country hit.
Her palm swipes her whipping locks from her face. For a split beat, I watch the way she peeks over her shoulder at the open window.
She buttons her lips in debate.
“Go.” I tap my palm to her hip, nudging her decision as my eyes return to the road. “I’m not gonna forgive you if you don’t,” I tease.
She’s already shuffling to her knees on the leather seat. Her backside faces me as she leans out the passenger-side window, her stomach balancing on the bottom part of the frame.
I’m grinning as my right hand softly hooks around her thigh. Just as the chorus enters, Callie’s pivoting her head to shine a huge smile over her shoulder.
Then she lets the rapid breeze carry her attention away.
Every now and then, I catch glimpses of her long hair tangling with the wind. Her eyes flutter closed before she tips her chin up, and the lowering sun latches onto her creamy skin.
She’s glowing under the sun-kissed sky, the light feeding her energy to flourish.
“Okay, I need your hat.”
I’m snickering as I extend an arm to the backseat. I pluck my cowboy hat off the leather, placing the black brim in her impatient palm.
Then she’s slipping the hat on her head.
I lightly slap her ass through the material of her dress, and she jerks on a squeal. “You lose that hat, you can forget about The 1984 Barn!”
“You lie!” she shouts back, clutching the crown of the hat in place.
I do.
“I’d just go by myself anyway,” she adds, hollering over the swoosh of wind and Russell’s voice.
I smile as my palm curls tighter around her inner thigh. I’m making sure she’s not going to fall out of this damn truck. “Yeah, right,” I shoot back.
When she doesn’t respond, my head pivots to her.
A smile is etched on my face the entire time I drink her in.
Her hooded eyes sparkle as strands of her hair fly in every direction under the hat. But her stare locks on the road ahead.
She’s mesmerized. Submerging into a trance she hadn’t expected as the country tune enters the last verse. And I decide there isn’t a sight more stunning than this.
It’s not her pretty dress.
Not her lush hair dancing under my hat.
Not her gorgeous face beneath the glimmering sunlight.
But her freedom.