37. Callie Rae
Callie Rae
My fingers run along the brushed bronze of Momma’s memorial plaque. It’s embedded in the rich lawn, and I shift so that my legs curl at my side. My jeans chafe against the grass as I brace my free palm on the ground.
Then my eyes cut to Daddy’s plate beside hers. The subtle breeze whispers through the stray strands from my high ponytail, and I’m caught in a brief trance.
Brant insisted he keep his distance, idled beside his Tacoma along the curb behind me. My chin slopes up, eyes tracing the golden frame of a white, puffy cloud. The ragged pulse of my heart begins to smooth over, and I absorb the serenity.
My gaze scans the engraved letters of my parents’ names, my forefinger trailing over the polished metal.
“I always thought that if I visited you both, I’d want to unleash all the pain you’ve ever caused me.
” I absently lift my eyes, blankly staring at the thick trunk of an oak tree in the distance.
“All I ever wanted was your love.” My head wags. “That’s all I ever wanted,” I whisper.
I slant my chin down, peeling my hand from Momma’s plaque to rest it on the denim around my thigh.
My fingertips rub the coarse fabric, my stare stationed.
“But this is nice,” I say softly. A tear stabs the corner of my eyelid.
“Calm.” I wet my lips, fingers plucking at a crinkle in the hem of my t-shirt.
“I could come back.” A breathy laugh slips from me, and I softly pop a shoulder.
“It sounds a little crazy, but maybe we could start over,” I offer.
As soon as the last word leaves me, more tears travel down my cheek.
“I could tell you about my life and what’s going on.
And then I could listen to your stories.
” I fold my mouth, pausing for a beat. “Even you, Daddy.” My throat rolls, and I force the sun to thaw any spare love I have for him.
“I’m still so angry, but by some miracle, I’ve harbored enough love to be able to give some to you now.
” A rumble triggers across my bottom lip, and I swipe a fresh tear away.
“We could make it how it should’ve been. ”
Another tear pops free, but my forearm catches it as quick as it emerges.
“I always wished for a better family when I was a kid. One that was kinder and warmer. But as I’ve grown, I realized I was praying for the wrong thing.”
I inhale a sniffle, my chest rigid. Then I reach an arm out to touch Momma’s plaque.
“I should’ve wished for you two to be healthier,” I breathe. My fingers affectionately caress the plate, and I roughly inhale.
“Not just so you could love me the way I needed you to, but for the both of you to live a happier life.” My face contorts, blunt grief creeping into me as it bolts my heartbeat in place. “Everybody would’ve won,” I whisper.
A languid smile creeps across my mouth, my eyes tracing the carved letters in the brushed bronze. The lush grass—bright and green—frames their tiny memorials, and I envision a future.
“I could even bring your grandkids when they’re here. If you’d like … I don’t know.”
I lay my hand back on my jean-clad thigh. My eyes volley between the two rectangular plates, swelling with new tears as the quiet wind slaps my face.
“Thank you,” I sob. “You didn’t mean to, and it wasn’t on purpose, but you introduced me to the most beautiful person I’ll ever know in my entire existence.
I’m sure of it.” I crush my eyes shut, a few more tears liberated before I open them again.
“Or maybe deep down you knew you couldn’t love me enough, so your heart forced you to lead me to him.
” My lenses cloud with the glints of light from above.
“Without you, I wouldn’t have a dove to fly with. ”
My chest rattles as I heave a sniffle, my lips quivering as I nod.
“We’re gonna be okay. All of us.” I gulp, swallowing my remaining tears. A tremor wracks through my entire body, and I finally touch Daddy’s memorial plaque. Somehow, the anger isn’t as intense as I imagined it would be. Instead, it’s mellowed by the bright sky above.
A new day has come.
“We’ll do it right this time around,” I breathe. “We’ll do it right.”
I sniffle just as Brant walks up behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders, and my palm parks over one.
“You okay?”
I peek up, nodding my head before he shuffles to sit down next to me. The heel of my palm cleans under one eye, and Brant’s thumb takes care of the other.
My body huddles into his side, his large arm caging my back. His lips meet my forehead, and then I’m sinking down. My forearms tangle on his crisscrossed legs, my cheek numbly laying on them.
His fingers brush through the stray locks of my high ponytail. “I could say a lot of things, but I guess all it really comes down to is that I’m sorry, Mr. Montgomery.” Silence inflates the air. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I allow Brant’s apology to linger. For the next hour that we remain positioned exactly like this.
For him to hear it.
Until he believes it and forgives himself.
* * *
The hum of the engine cuts over the dirt road. I look out the passenger side window, and a vast field spreads into the distance.
My eyes dart to the scarce patch of tall sunflowers on the left side. Their bold, yellow petals pop over the sea of green, their faces angled toward the shimmering sun.
“Is that it?” I ask, touching my index finger to the glass.
“We couldn’t leave without making this stop.”
I turn to Brant, catching his tender gaze underneath the brim of his backward snapback. “Have you visited by yourself?”
His left forearm is propped on the steering wheel as he shakes his head. “I promised myself if I were to come back here, it would be with you,” he answers. His Adam’s apple cocks before adding, “We were in it together back then, and we should be in it together now.”
A slow smile blossoms from me, and I rotate to the window. “I can’t believe that patch is still kicking,” I breathe.
The hinges of Brant’s door creak, cueing me to step out of the Tacoma. My sneakers land on the dirt, and he’s already shutting my door closed.
Brant’s arm winds around my shoulders before mine crosses his lower back. Our legs walk in sync over the dry grass under the beaming warmth. My palm digs into the cotton of his t-shirt over his hip, and my free hand slips into my back jeans pocket.
We mosey our way over to the cluster of flowers, the thick and sturdy stems mildly swaying with the spring breeze. The petals are textured and dazzling under their natural spotlight. The dark green leaves of the stems only help their vibrancy pierce through.
I tilt my head so I can lay my cheek on Brant’s upper arm. I revel in the grassy scent blending with a sweetness I hadn’t expected.
It’s fresher than I remember.
We eventually idle in front of the sparse collection, silence engulfing us. We allow our memories to talk, and Brant squeezes me closer.
My eyelids fall as I sink into his solid body. Clips of clumsy motions and innocence flash in front of me, my lungs expanding as I ingest the images. They leak into my veins, riding with the current of my blood with more confidence this time.
I never forgot, but sometimes I missed Brant so much that I forced myself to stifle the memories.
Not anymore.
I’m free.
“Why do you want four kids?”
I open my eyes, my stare landing on the sea of bright yellow and green. “One to replace each heart that should’ve been when we were growing up,” I say. “Yours and mine.” I pause, inhaling the clean air before continuing. “Your momma’s and my daddy’s.”
He shifts his head, resting his stubbly lips on my hairline, and my eyes flutter shut. “Yeah,” he whispers, “we have the control this time.”
I nod, my cheek rubbing the sleeve of his t-shirt as a tear slips free. “That’s all I want. We owe it to the two of them.”
Those two doves.
“We’re gonna give it to them, Dove,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
His words drive my hand from my back pocket, and I lift it between us. I raise my pinky, waiting for him to solidify the pledge with a vintage ritual.
“Promise?” I ask.
He ejects a breathy laugh, his chest vibrating as he links his pinky with mine. Then I raise my head, our eyes meeting before we kiss our closed fists in sync.
“Promise.”
His lips deliver a long kiss to my forehead, my eyelids sinking through the gesture. We drop our hands, and I feel his fingers slip the hair tie from my ponytail.
I angle my attention up, a heated chill coursing through me. My stare narrows when he removes his backward snapback to place it on me.
I’m stunned still, my heart galloping when he jerks his brows. A wide grin spreads from me, and I plant two hands on the backward cap to secure it.
My head whips to the side when Brant jogs to his Tacoma. “Okay! You ready?!” he shouts.
I wince, shaking my head. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?!”
I’m watching the way he dips his body through the truck door. He shuffles around before blaring the introduction to “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers.
“Ahhhh!”
My chin is tilted up as I lean into him. A smirk sprouts on his face as I make a “give me” gesture with my hand.
He removes his snapback, placing it backward atop my head. My smile expands, and his hands finesse my wavy locks around my face.
“Much better,” he mutters, the subtext evident.
Oh, my heart.
I quietly laugh, the comment releasing the caged butterflies inside of me. I tangle my arms around the back of his neck, lifting on my tiptoes to crash our lips among the chorus of “Mr. Brightside”.
His long arms hug my lower back, reclining me slightly so we can deepen the kiss. The remnants of my orgasm are prominent on his mouth, the erotic tang flipping my belly. Over and over as my body heats with an infinite flame.
It’s all so…us.
I squeal, hunching over in laughter just as Brant runs up to me.
“Come on, what are you doin’ just standing around?!” he hollers through a breath.
I’m sprinting in place with my arms out before he finally scoops me up.
My legs ravel around his hips, and my arms punch up in the air. I’m beaming as I angle my chin toward the clear sky, eyes shutting as we ramble the lyrics and bob our heads.
I’m whipping back and forth, my palms cradling his shoulders as he spins us round and round along the grass. Breathy chuckles pop from us amidst the rock melody, and I eventually cradle his stubbled cheeks in my hands.
“The first girl whose tits I ever felt,” he sighs, stealing a kiss. “Who knew you were such a risky little thing back then, Cal?” His palms slide inside my jeans, cupping my ass over my lace panties.
I yelp, giggling when I murmur, “it was only a kiss,” repeatedly against his lips. “Mm, yeah, I really did you a favor. But also, I had a favorite boy. Could never resist him. Still can’t.”
We practically inhale each other on the next kiss, and he walks us toward the patch. “The first girl I ever made shake against me in pleasure. The first girl who ever touched me.”
“It was so fucking good, Dove,” I pant before pecking him with a long kiss. “The best I ever had, I swear it.”
I laugh when he lays us down. My backside parks against the grass as the sunflowers encase us.
Our throats bob in tandem, and my fingertips graze his jawline.
“The only girl I ever made love to,” he breathes.
I inhale a breath of liberation. Fear is nothing but an afterthought as he assures me of the last ten years. That his sexual experiences were just as average as mine.
They could never compare.
I toss my head back when he trails his scorching lips over my neck. He breathes fire on my flesh, his kisses reaching between my breasts.
My teeth roll over my lip when he cups my pussy over the denim, kneading it before wrenching a moan from me.
He lifts his hand to cuddle my cheek, our warm breath tangling when he speaks. “I’ll be damned if you aren’t my last, Dove,” he whispers. “You’d have to kill me first.”
I nod, planting my palms on top of his backward snapback on my head. “Yours,” I pant. “Always, Dove.”
He bobs his head, our swollen lips brushing. “Mine.”
It’s a boiling kiss. Our tongues lunge at the other, my hands fisting his shirt to bring him as close as possible. We make out over the last bit of “Mr. Brightside,” our tiny smiles stretching between our crushed faces.
Bright hues of yellow and green sprinkle us. We’re under the same umbrella we once were, and somehow, that excitement burns hotter.
The excitement of young love that’s wild. Hasty. Free.
It never faltered in our time apart. Out of the rare things in this world that are timeless, I’m so fucking grateful we’re one of the lucky ones.
God, I’m so fucking lucky.
The lust gradually drifts away with the introduction of “Wrapped Around” by Brad Paisley. Brant lays on his back, and I cuddle into his side.
Our stunted breaths christen the charged air, and my palm rests on his pumping chest. My cheek snuggles into the crook of his arm, and he bends a leg up.
We linger on the sunflowers above. Brant’s hand covers mine on his torso, and I curl my leg to settle it over his that’s stretched flat.
We’re positioned like this for the rest of the song. Brad’s angelic voice. Brant’s backward snapback on my head. A sunflower patch. Burrowing our horniness.
Just like two teenagers who felt each other for the very first time.
And so, we meet paradise once again.
My eyelids fall as my brows screw in discomfort, but I manage a nod. “D-don’t move.”
Brant keeps his word, and I drain a breath as I open my eyes.
We’re connected.
My vision gradually focuses, my periphery catching the colors that float above us. From the sunflower petals to the streaked sky, we’re submerged in something beautiful.
For once.
This is the reason we didn’t lose our virginity on my eighteenth birthday. I always wondered why he didn’t take all of me that afternoon. Seeing him parked above me now, there’s not a thing I would’ve wanted him to have done differently.
This is perfection.
A slice of paradise amidst our suffering.
My grip slackens around his neck when I pulse around him. The sharp pain has dissolved, replaced with a new sensation that begs me to listen.
I flutter around him again, and we gasp in sync. We dip our heads to our connection, faint moans pouring from us. They’re hardly audible, but we hear it.
His attention meets mine, our throats rolling at the same time.
“Okay,” I whisper on a nod.
I ghost my hands over his lower back, and he languidly pulls out.
The friction startles me, a gentle wince crossing my face. Until his two fingers are dancing around in that delicious circle again.
“Ohh,” I breathe, gaping my eyes at him.
My palms travel lower. The firm swells of his butt land under my touch as he slowly thrusts in and out of me.
His face gently contorts, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Does my cock feel good for you?” He trembles through his words, his vulnerability fueling my arousal. “I want to make sure it always feels good for you. That you like it.”