Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
His hands gripped my hips as he rolled his beneath me. “Yes, done. I’m totally done. I’ll never speak again.”
Our mouths collided in a rush, and his hands dove into my hair. Our lips were so meant to meet over and over again, the way his tongue flicked against mine as he moved beneath me.
August was mine.
That was the only sentence that kept repeating itself over and over in my head. That he was mine, and that this was inevitable.
He’d been my best enemy.
My first crush.
And now, I was kissing him.
His hands slid down my neck and then grasped my shoulders before our mouths broke apart in a pant. He nipped at my lip once, twice, three times, then flipped me over onto my back. “Ceasefire,” he whispered against my lips.
I could barely breathe; my heart was beating so fast. “Ceasefire? And what happens after?”
Something beautiful broke in his eyes as he stared me down and shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.”
“Tell me the truth,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”
I could see the strain in his face. “I don’t think so. No.”
I rubbed both hands down his back. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing we aren’t getting attacked by a bear, it gives me the opportunity to be the one attacking.”
Tears filled his green eyes. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to be whole, Hazel.”
I leaned up and kissed his jaw, then found his lips before pulling away. “Don’t be stupid, August. You were never supposed to be whole to begin with. When you really think about it, how can you share your soul with someone who has no space left? It’s all about the fractured pieces and the people in your life that fill them—so beautiful and ugly at the same time. You have damage? Missing pieces? Wounds? Scars? That’s why people are brought into your life. It may not be pretty, but what a beautiful mess in the end, don’t you think? All the colors? The personalities? The disasters? I’m sure I have a spot in some of those cracks, some of those missing pieces. Think of it as an honor when people stand by your side, rather than find you lacking in any way.”
A tear slid down his cheek and dropped onto his chest. “Who made you so wise?”
I proudly stared him down and whispered, “My great-grandma. Warriors stick together, you know. Plus”—I turned my right hand over and showed him my wrist, where I had a small heart tattoo—“Great-Grandma Nadine Lainheart is infused in me. So, when her soul left, I kept her memories and wisdom and put them in a small tattoo so that no matter what I touched or did with my hands, I’d be reminded of how powerful my words are. How powerful a helping hand can be.”
“Did that extend to me?” He brushed his thumb over the heart tattoo.
“Oh, no. I hated you. But she did give me one piece of advice about the boy next door.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What was that?”
“We fight what we love the most because we’re afraid if we don’t fight for it, we won’t actually deserve it in the end.”
“Maybe.” He swiped his thumb across my lower lip. “We’ll never deserve those precious things. Maybe the point is to try to earn them every day.”
“One hole and bear at a time,” I joked.
His mouth slanted against mine over and over, and I was lost in the waves crashing against the beach while he peeled off his shirt, then followed it by removing mine. Clothes rustled, waves slammed the sand. The taste of wine blessed my tongue as he parted my lips again.
No more words were spoken.
They weren’t needed.
Sometimes, the best conversations happened when you listened to the soft breaths of the person next to you, the sounds of nature around you, the air giving you life. And at the end of the day, the slow beats of someone’s heart.
When it beat for you.
Chapter Thirteen
“All things end, but that also means all things begin, right?”—August Wellington
August
“More.” I’d egged her on. I was desperate for more. I didn’t even remember stripping us down as I thrust into her and rolled my hips, needing her more than anything in my life.
She didn’t complain, just clung to me like she knew I needed the connection—as if she’d known the entire time, just like I did.
The fear.
The terror of finding a person you knew you could be with. A person you could also lose.
It was over almost before it began, and then, an hour later, she was on top of me again, moving her hips this time, gripping me by the hair and kissing down my chest. “Mmmmm, need more.”
I met her movements. “I don’t think I want to stop.”
“Then don’t.”
So, we didn’t.
Something beautiful was happening, something strange, something I was afraid to say out loud.