[Social Media Post from the Taste of Magnolia Food Truck]
(Picture of Cora and Aspen holding plates of food in front of the truck)
Did you know we cater? Book us for your next special event!
#supportlocal #tasteofmagnolia #magnoliapoint
Unknown: Classy. The only thing you’ll be catering is frat parties and wet T-shirt contests.
23
TALON
“Ithink Navy is gonna sleep for a week!” Cora yells from the bathroom, and I chuckle.
“Not a chance. She’ll be up right along with the sun like she always is.”
Stripping out of my shirt, I toss it on the ground and do the same with my shorts before climbing onto my bed and sitting against the headboard. Letting my eyelids flutter shut, I let out a sigh of contentment at how perfect today had been.
My parents had come home, and we’d celebrated with an impromptu cookout with Cora and Aspen, Phoenix, Bristol, and Navy.
And Chip of course.
He’d taken to Cora right away, and she’d laughed and giggled right along with Navy as they raced around the yard. I’d seen my future in that moment, in everything I never thought I’d ever want but now desperately need.
The bathroom door creaks open, but I don’t open my eyes right away, instead listening to her almost inaudible footsteps as she crosses to the bed.
“Talon?”
“Hmm?” I open one eye and then the other, my lips parted as Cora stands before me in nothing but a towel, her hair piled high on her head. “Baby, what are you…”
“I want to show you.”
A shiver racks my body, the little hairs on my arms standing on end as she moves to straddle my lap, with one hand gripping the towel knotted between her breasts. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this moment. It’s raw and real and beautiful.
She’s beautiful.
“I had to wear two sports bras in high school and college and skipped regular bras at all costs. My mother wanted me to use myassetsto attract a husband and never missed an opportunity to tell me how ungrateful I was. When I was in college, I told my father I wanted to get a breast reduction. I was in constant pain, but it took an emotional and mental toll too. He went with me to all the doctors’ appointments and supported me while I had to jump through hoops with physical therapy to show them it wasn’t just a cosmetic surgery.”
“What happened?”
“I had the surgery but there were complications, and I had to go back for a second one to ensure both breasts would be even and secure.” She licks her lips and looks to the side as she says, “They said there’d be scarring, but sometimes it still surprises me when I look in the mirror.”
“But you’re happy? Pain free?”
“Yes.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“I guess,” she says with a nervous laugh, a stray tear sliding down her cheek. Brushing it away with my thumb, I cup her cheek and swallow down the lump of emotion in my throat.
“I did some research.”
“On breast reductions?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, my hand dropping to squeeze her thigh. “I read a lot of stories—women sharing their experiences and why they’d done it, things that went wrong and also how it changed their lives for the better.”
“Why?”
