Page 58 of The Masks We Burn
Two more tears fall from the corner of her eyes, and my heart physically aches to see her cry for me. To care this much and not blow it off as merely a hobby I can no longer do. This woman...
Wiping her tears away, I grin. “Don’t cry, baby. Every day I try to grow back my wings. To find purpose and fly again.”
When I lean down to kiss her, she grabs either side of my face and draws me in harder. It’s full of things she can’t quite say and it’s almost as if she’s trying to give me another reason to feel alive. She doesn’t know she’s already doing so.
Breaking away, I run my knuckle along her jaw, staring into the eyes of the woman who’s bringing me back from the dead. She grins before turning to her side and kissing each butterfly etched in my skin.
I stare in awe as the fierce queen beneath me breaks open my chest cavity and wraps a hand around my racing heart. For a brief moment, I let my eyes fall shut and allow myself to focus on nothing else but her soft touch. I savor the lightness expanding in my sternum, the hairs rising on my arms, the tingling in my nerves. Everything she makes me feel.
After she kisses the last butterfly, she stares back at me, a gentle smile curving her perfect mouth. It makes me want to stay like this until my arms give out, but I remember she has something I want to learn more about too.
I tug at the elastic band of her shorts, exposing the butterfly on the inside of her hip. My thumb grazes over the tattoo, loving the way goosebumps sprout on her arms at my touch. “What about this one? Does it have meaning?”
Her eyes flutter closed, the soft smile vanishing. But once I think I’ve ruined the tender moment, she sighs, raising to kiss me again. “That one day, I’ll be free.”
I swallow around her words.
We’re so alike, it’s easy to see why we ended up this way. Even easier to see how fucked up I’ll be when she learns how I feel and leaves. She won’t be caged again, after she finally breaks away, and I wouldn’t dare make her feel that way. She deserves to have that happy ending she’s spent too damn long looking for.
Clearing my throat, the light in my chest deflates. I don’t have enough time with her, and I thinkknowinga clock is ticking somewhere above forces me to take all I can now.
I let my hand trail down her stomach, the need to be inside her overpowering any other thought. Only when my hand reaches her waist, a knock comes from the front door, stealing both of our attention. “Honey, we made it!”
I snap up so fast my head gets dizzy.
“My mom,” I hiss, admiring for a second how quickly Amora is on the floor, legs crossed, pen in hand as if she wasn’t about to get completely railed on the couch.
Rushing to the front, I right my joggers and open the door, my surprise increasing tenfold when I see large takeout bags in my parents’ hands.
“I told you he’d forget, honey. You should have sent him a text,” my dad says, scratching his nearly all-white beard.
“But where’s the fun in that?” My mom steps forward, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I hug her back, my shoulders dropping as we embrace, and I inhale deeply. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, too long since I’ve smelled the freshly turned rich soil, the blooming apple trees, and sliced potatoes.
It’s like coming home, and for the first time in four years, the scents don’t remind me of everything I’ve lost.
She releases me before holding my biceps at her short arm’s length. Her amber eyes scan over my frame as if so much could change in a month, though we talk almost every other day. Still, I know she worries.
I tug at one of her tight black spirals dangling by her ear and watch it spring back. “I’m sorry, Ma. It’s been wild and dinner slipped my mind.”
My mom tilts her head, a knowing grin on her face before her eyes snap to the living room. “You must be Amora.”
I’m not sure how long I’ve been with my mom, but Amora is standing at my side, one hand held out to shake her hand. I laugh before it happens.
“Oh, honey, we hug our future daughters-in-law around here.” My mom wraps her arms around Amora, and my father and I both laugh at the surprise lifting Amora’s features.
My dad steps up next, sparing Amora any more awkwardness and shakes her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, Amora. My wife and I have heard a lot about you.”
Amora gives a faint smile, rubbing a hand down her opposite arm as if she’s cold. “Good things, I hope.”
Mom smirks, already in the kitchen searching for plates. “As of late, yes.”
Amora’s face snaps to me, a bright red blush consuming her face. I shrug, chuckling as I pull her close, kissing her forehead. “She’s messing. Kind of.”
Her mouth pops open but her eyes flash to my parents, obviously nervous to say anything that might offend them.
“Don’t worry, darling. Be yourself around us. It takes a strong woman to tame my son, so you can drop the timid act whenever you feel comfortable.” Mom smiles again as she helps my dad open up the brown to-go bags.
