Page 117 of Heavy

We sat here for hours, fucking between stints of silence. A few people came to talk with us, but I’m not the social one, thankfully she is. It never got to the point of them staying or trying to interject in our time. As much as I enjoy being watched, I’m possessive and can’t see anyone touching Cal that isn’t me.

I’ve become obsessed, more so than I ever thought imaginable. I don’t even have any desire to feel anything or anyone but her, and for someone with a fucked-up mindset on relationships as I do, that’s incredible.

Calista has flipped a switch and hasn’t allowed for me to turn it off. She woke up the part of my brain that wants to find a way to heal, not accept that I’m too far into my life to be worth fixing.

Worth carrying the weight for.

Maybe this is what love is meant to be. Taking each other for what they are. Accepting that it’s alright to be broken and working through the tough times to have these. Every person has their ‘hard’, their baggage, it’s just finding that person willing to choose yours over someone else’s.

I think I found that one, at least, I hope so. Heartbreak for losing my mom was one thing. I’m not entirely sure what would happen if I lost Cal.

That’s more terrifying than any touch could ever elicit.

37

Calista

Gettingoutofbedhas become the bane of my existence.

For the past several weeks, we’ve found our routine together. Alongside my day job, I’ve got the cabin back to being completely livable. All the designs within the home are done, that includesourbedroom. Ronan told me to convert the guest room to my office as though he owned the place.

Throughout his time here, he worked with the contractors to learn some hard skills. Watching him get his hands dirty has been the sexiest thing ever. He was convinced he would likely become a drug dealer, but I’m pleased he is a natural handyman. The risk of going back to prison in this career is slim to none, and that’s my goal.

No prison. Only freedom… with me.

I roll over in bed, not feeling him beside me. This is the only way either of us can get up, is if he finds the strength to get out before me.

Groaning, I throw off the blanket and peel myself out of the room. Not before grabbing one of his shirts, of course. It’s about the only thing I enjoy wearing when I can be lazy.

The hallway didn’t need much maintenance, but it got a labor of love in paint and a few artistic pictures. Alright, they are posters of my favorite movies. Ronan doesn’t have any favorites, besides one:Jaws. It hangs as the first one you see as you come down toward the bedrooms.

Along with the posters, I put up a piece I made for him, one I’m proud of and Isworealmost made him cry when I presented it to him.

The living room is completely open to the kitchen and dining room, with the small loft that was being used for storage now empty for us to do with as we please. I kept the exposed wooden beams up on the high, vaulted ceilings. Although I darkened the natural wooden tones with dusky brown and black, when the sun comes through the dozen windows and doors, it doesn’t feel dark. A large black sectional sofa and a low-profile coffee table is the focal point of the space. The rug under it, Ronan picked out. Black, with swirls of green and brown.

The fireplace now has a television mounted over it, because the best thing ever is being curled up on the couch beside him, watching an old classic horror movie.

The kitchen is wall-to-wall matching browns as the living space, with dark hardware and stainless-steel appliances. I’ve enjoyed cooking, which hasn’t been something I’ve historically liked. I think it’s me getting off on hearing Ronan groan over the food and then fucking me on the island as a ‘thank you’.

Speaking of, he’s sitting on the six-seater elongated dining table at the furthest point of the open area. His eyes are trained down at his phone, likely responding to Ken who has been taking up a lot of his attention the last couple of days.

My feet patter against the floor, loud enough that it pulls his gaze up to me. He immediately puts his phone down and stands.

“Good morning,” I say, picking up my pace.

He rounds the table toward me, and I raise my hands. “Morning, baby girl.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, he drags me into a long, drawn-out kiss. His hand snakes around my back, and as he does every morning, drags my hair from my bun to run his fingers through it.

“When is Ken coming by?” I ask, my own fingers running through his freshly trimmed hair. “And the boys?”

“This Saturday, if that’s alright. Mia really wants to swim before it gets too cold.” The prospect of them coming has my stomach fluttering with butterflies. I haven’t seen them since that incident with my car, and while Ken has stopped by from time to time, it isn’t for long periods. Ronan says he hasn’t gone because he’s still worried about my safety, even if I’ve been adamant I’m fine. Plus, he has access to the security cameras.

I nod. “We should go to the local farmers market first thing in the morning, get some fresh fruit and—”

My phone blares from the bedroom.

His fingers draw my shirt up to grab my bare ass. “Go, but yes, the farmers market is fine.” He quickly presses a kiss to my cheek, and I giggle. “I’ll finish up with Ken.”