The Redemption of Callie & Kayden

behind my waist, latching onto me and making it impossible for me to escape.
    But that’s okay. For the first time in my life I’m content enough that I don’t want to.
Callie
    I had one of those moments where I knew that every single thing I did mattered, from the way that I breathed, to the tone of my voice. Honestly, I am terrified out of my mind. I’d felt him wake up, but I didn’t think too much off it, until suddenly I did. It snapped me out of my sleep and I went in there, knowing I was about to walk in on something that could potentially break me, just like I did when I was twelve. This time things would end differently though because I’d be strong and I’d save him, just like he’s saved me.
    He’s pissed about it, which is understandable, but it doesn’t mean I give up and eventually it ends okay. Well, other than the fact that I cut my finger open, something I’m painfully reminded of when I open my eyes.
    The sun is sparkling through the window and paints the sky in contrasting shades of pink and orange. My finger is throbbing and I realize I never cleaned it up. There’s blood on my hand, on my arm, on the bed, and on Kayden’s chest where I am resting my hand.
    I sit up, cradling it in my other hand, and blink my eyes until the room comes into focus. I’m still wearing Kayden’s shirt and it smells like his cologne. Swinging my feet off the bed, I leave him to sleep as I head into the bathroom.
    My hair is a tangled mess and there are dark circles under my eyes. I feel exhausted as I turn the faucet on and wince when the warm water runs over the wound, washing away the blood and part of last night. I rest my elbows on the countertop and let my head fall forward as I keep my hand beneath the water.
    “Are you okay?” Kayden asks and I whip my head up, startled.
    He’s standing in the doorway, with his boxers on, and in the bright morning light all of his scars are very distinctive against the outlines of his chest and ab muscles.
    “I’m fine.” I shut off the water and reach for a towel, then press my finger into it. “I just forgot to wash it off last night. That’s all.”
    He steps into the bathroom and I tense as he extends his hand for the towel. He lifts it off and brings my finger closer to his face, examining it. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says.
    I shake my head. “You didn’t hurt me. It was my own fault… and it was worth it.”
    When he glances up at me, he looks horrified, but then the look disappears and he lifts my hand to his lips. He places a tender kiss on my finger and then moves his mouth downward to kiss my hand. He continues to make a path of kisses across my forearm and all the way to the crook of my arm, and then turns upward, showering my skin in succulent kisses until he reaches the top of my shoulder. He gives it an affectionate suck and his tongue rolls out along my skin. The sensation of his zealous breath drives a shiver through my body and I place a hand on his shoulder to keep from falling down.
    “You are the most amazing person,” he whispers against my neck. “You really are.”
    I almost start to cry. “So are you.”
    His lips part again and he sucks on my neck, his tongue savoring the taste of skin and the edge of his teeth gently grazing it. My head distractedly falls to the side because it feels so good and my fingers dip downward, gripping onto him and trying to keep my legs from giving out. His mouth starts to progress upward to the arch of my neck, to the spot where my pulse throbs, then to the line of my jaw, the corner of my mouth. His moist lips dampen my skin and knock the breath out of my chest in ravenous gasps of air.
    It’s like we’re locked in a box, protected from the world and our fears. We can’t keep our hands off each other. There are so many problems around us but all I can’t think about is him. When our lips join, he turns us to the side and backs us toward the bed. Maybe it’s crazy, with everything going on, to be so absorbed in each other, instead of working on our problems. Maybe one day we’ll look back and wonder what we were thinking. Or maybe we’ll just remember the day we decided to escape the pain in the arms of each other.
    We collapse onto the bed, our legs twined together like a snug vine. He’s on top of me, his shirt is still off, and I trace my fingers along his firm chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the dance of his heart beneath his chest. He scoots between my legs and the