Page 169 of Burn

Hugging Jacey, my watery eyes shift to Caleb over her shoulder and I watch him holding our baby girl to his chest. A memory of him holding me against his chest flashes, the one where he saved me, breathed for me when I was having trouble.

He winks at me, his lips softly brushing Emerson’s forehead and I melt.

Breathing in deep, the breath is one of relief that we made it through this. I have no idea what tomorrow will be like, nor does it make anything we went through better, but it does give me a sense of fulfillment that we rose through the ash and destruction.

Jacey moves toward Owen and Easton playing in the grass leaving me to stand alone next to the statues. Caleb makes his way over to me, still holding Emerson, tired eyes finding mine. Poor guy still hasn’t slept.

When we’re standing in front of one another, he’s silent, unmoving, maybe waiting for me to say something. And then he clears his throat, and my stomach doing a flip-flop when he barely raises those long lashes. He’s always going to have an effect on me.

“What?”

Shifting Emerson to his shoulder, he scratches his cheek, his head tilting to the side as he raises his eyebrows. “Think she’ll sleep for another hour?”

“Why?”

Sighing, he shakes his head in amusement and then pulls me against him but covers Emerson’s tiny ears with his fingers so she won’t hear what he’s about to say. Probably a good thing. His words are whispered when he says, “Because I want to fuck my wife when we get home and don’t want this little monster awake for it.”

I can feel his heart pounding, the strong muscles of his chest flexing as he wraps his arms around me. “I don’t know. We’re parents now. Maybe we should be more responsible . . .”

He stops me, pressing his fingers to my lips. “That’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?” I laugh at him shaking my head. “You could have gotten in trouble for what we did at the firehouse yesterday.”

He laughs. “Have you lost your sense of adventure already?”

I take Emerson from him, hand her over to Jacey who’s eager to hold her anyways, and then wrap my arms around Caleb’s neck.

I turn grab his shoulders pulling him to my chest, my mouth pressing to his, eager, desire filled and passionate. These are kisses that last a lifetime. The ones you remember and go back to. You say to yourself, I remember that kiss for the way his tongue felt gliding over mine or the gentle way he cupped my cheek and held me close. I’ll remember the sighs and the tiny groans when he wants to take it further but then sighs again, being content with the moment and what it meant for us.

“Does that mean we can go home and have sex?” He laughs, pulling away from me with a smile, his palm resting on my cheek.

“No, this is where you say,you’re welcome, Mila.”

He laughs, watching my face as he speaks. “For what?”

“For loving you.” I close my eyes, a thousand memories of him flooding my mind and I know the exact moment that happened for me. I fell when I took a seat on his lap. Maybe not in love, but I fell off a fucking cliff that night. And every time he showed up at the hotel, I slipped a little more. It wasn’t all at once. It was gradual and now, there was no way I could go back to a life without him in it.

His lips press against mine once again. “Thank you, Mila.”

Sometimes I wonder why we go through what we do and how we make it through it. Where does the strength come from? Some say it’s religion, and others say it’s sheer will. I don’t know what my theory on it is, but I do know one thing: It can change tomorrow.

There are things in this world I will never understand, and I gave up trying to a while ago. Like hot dogs. How are they safe for people to eat if it’s ground up mystery meat? Maybe that’s why people turn into zombies.

All jokes aside, what we have is in the moment. And I’m okay with that.

I’ve always wondered why most stories are about how a couple falls in love. What about after that? And I’m not talking about the epilogue or anything. I’m talking about the real shit like living together and making that shit work.

You want to know why there’s not a lot about that?

It’s boring. No one wants to read about that.

But the thing is, it’s like eating cake without ice cream. That’s the story. The falling in love is easy. Those closet hookups and bathroom fucks with your panties in your mouth, people want to hear about that.

I couldtellyou our love story, but you’ll never understand the rush of adrenaline I had when I sat on his lap for the first time or the way my heart fluttered and my tummy tickled when he walked through the lobby doors of my hotel.

You’ll never understand the pain radiating from him the night his brother died and the way his tears felt against my skin as I held him. You can’t because it’s indescribable. Words would never do any of that justice.

Maybe you can understand the love we have because you’ve experienced something similar, but then again, no one love is the same.

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