June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

He finally looks away and moves around me, traipsing to the foyer area to slip on his shoes. I watch him. I watch him through bleary, puffy eyes, wondering if he heard my painful truth. I receive my answer seconds later. “June…” Brant hesitates with the door cracked open, glancing at me over his shoulder. He taps at his pocket, his keys jingling. He falters. And then he says, “I wish you would have lied to me.” He walks out and shuts the door, and I collapse with tears onto the stained couch.

“It’s a mess.” Truly a mess. “I love him, Celeste…I love him so much, but I don’t know how to love someone I’m not allowed to be with.”

“I don’t like the way we left things on Friday.” Brant’s eyes flicker across my face for a moment before he dips his head. “I don’t either.” “So let’s pick up where we left off.” “It’s not that simple.” “Sure it is. I’ll go first.” I clear my throat with a dramatic flair. “Hi, Brant. I love you. I think we should be together,” I say, lifting my chin with as much resolve as I can muster. “Your turn.” He blinks. His fingers splay at his sides, then ball into fists. Tension ripples off him as he takes a step toward me. “Hi, June,” he says back. “I love you, too. I want nothing more than to be with you, but that’s not possible because we were raised by the same parents and everyone we’ve ever met sees us as siblings. And that kills me. It absolutely

guts me. So I’m trying to figure out where to go from here, after succumbing to a weak moment we can’t take back, and it seems like every single scenario I come up with ends with me hurting you. And that kills me, too. I’m trying to figure out which scenario hurts less than all the others, and I haven’t been able to do that yet.”

“On top of all that, I can’t stop thinking about that weak moment. I can’t stop replaying every shameful, delicious second of it—the sounds you made, the way you tasted on my tongue, and how it felt being inside you for the very first time.” I remain frozen to the mottled carpeting, my whole body trembling as he inches closer. He’s toe-to-toe with me when he finishes. “It felt like I’d give my dying breath just to have one more weak moment with you.”

“That’s not what I meant to say,” he murmurs under his breath. “Maybe it was what you wanted to say.” Brant slowly lifts his eyes to mine, his hands fisted at his sides like he’s trying so hard not to touch me. His nostrils flare. “We have to stop, June. I can’t do this to you,” he says. “I think it’s for the best if you move out.” No. No, no, no. “You won’t break me, Brant,” I insist. My feet inch forward, desperate to shatter his walls. Desperate to change his mind. “I’m not as fragile as you think I am.” “That’s not what I’m afraid of.” “What are you afraid of? Hurting me?” “Worse.” I frown, trying to read between the lines. “What’s worse than hurting me?” He swallows, shaking his head a little, inhaling a troubled breath. Our eyes lock as he replies, “Ruining you.” A gasp leaves me. “I’m terrified of ruining you for the poor bastard who has the unfortunate burden of loving you after me, that when you finally let him kiss you all he’ll taste is my ashes. When he brings you to his bed, it’s my name you’ll scream. And that’s not fair. You deserve so much more than to live your life in the shadow of this…curse.”

and broken down. A little cry spills out as I say in a strangled voice, “Brant…it’s too late.” I watch as his forehead wrinkles, his brows pulling into a frown. He waits for my next words, eager and anxious. “You’ve already ruined me.” “Don’t…” His own eyes glisten with painful tears as he whips his head back and forth. “Don’t tell me that.” “It’s the truth,” I confess. “I’ve always belonged to you. Always. I was still a virgin because I was waiting for a man who had the ability to even come close to the way you make me feel. Someone who could chase away my fears with a forehead kiss. Who could sing away my nightmares with a lullaby. Who was both my comfort and my courage, who held my heart in steadfast hands, and who looked at me like I was the most precious thing in this world.” I watch his tears fall as freely as my words. My heart pounds and aches as I step right up to him, clasping his hands in mine. He doesn’t pull away this time. He just stares at me with a tight jaw and wet cheeks. “But you see…he doesn’t exist. There is only you,” I say, squeezing his palms. Pulling him closer. “You ruined me the day you met me, Brant Elliott. I was born yours.” His hands lash out, gripping me around the waist and yanking me to him before I can take my next breath. “Jesus, June,” he grits out. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me.” Bruising fingers dig into my hips as his face lowers to mine, our lips a centimeter apart. “Once I get a taste of what this could be, I won’t be ...

“You’re going to regret this one day.” Brant drags his fingers up my spine, fisting them in my hair as he tugs my head back, towering over me, eyes blazing. “And that’s going to be such a damn tragedy.”

Our eyes remain tethered as he crawls over me, and my hands slink around his back, grazing his shoulder blades. When he dips his head, his mouth finding the tender curve of my neck, I arch into him, my fingers crawling up to his hair. His erection grinds against me while his tongue laves up my neck, teeth nicking my skin until I whimper. “June,” he whispers on a ragged breath, his mouth moving up to my ear and nibbling the lobe. I wrap my legs around his hips and buck upward, seeking more friction. “Junebug,” I correct. “Call me Junebug.”

“Brant…” I keep writhing, my body pleading. “Don’t stop.” He doesn’t move right away. He just hovers over me, his warm breaths tickling my ear as his chest rises and falls against mine. Then he slowly lifts up on his elbows, his eyes hooded as he stares down at me. I blink. “What is it?” “I can’t call you that anymore.” My grip on him tightens. His words slice into me one by one, piercing my skin and bruising my heart. “It’s what you’ve always called me.” “I know.” He swallows, his gaze agonized. “That’s why I can’t.” “You don’t mean that.” “Yes, I do.” He rolls off me, landing on his back beside me on the bed. His shorts are still tented with the evidence of his arousal. “You don’t understand what this is doing to me. It’s tearing me apart.” A lump rolls down my throat, and I lean over, tentatively running a feather-light touch over his erection. “Brant, please…” Brant snatches my wrist and in a quick flash is on top of me again. The agony in his eyes shifts to something almost volatile. “I called you Junebug beneath our childhood tree house as we played with ladybugs and read storybooks,” he growls out, his voice low. Laced with warning and a tinge of self-loathing. “I called you Junebug at your first dance recital when you could hardly pronounce my name and kissed my cheek, leaving your mother’s lipstick behind.

“I called you Junebug when I cradled you in my arms after a nightmare, and when I gave you piggyback rides through the backyard, and when I sang you sweet lullabies as you bounced innocently in my lap, your pigtails tickling my chin.” His teeth clench and bare as he stares down at me, my wrists clasped above my head, tucked inside his unyielding grip. “And you want me to call you that now? When I’m about to fuck you?” I suck in a shallow breath, my fingers curling as he presses me into the mattress. My chin lifts. “All of those things share one thing in common,” I murmur as tears gather at the corners of my eyes. “And it’s not what you think.”

All I do is raise my hips, rubbing against his erection until his eyelids flutter with the prelude to surrender. And when my head pulls up from the bed to steal a kiss, catching his bottom lip between my teeth, his lust-laced groan is the sound of defeat. Brant dives into me, ripping my shirt over my head and fumbling for the button on my jean shorts. I squirm beneath him, wriggling free of the denim when he yanks the zipper down, and then I curl my fingers into the hemline of his shorts and tug them over his hips. His boxers follow, then my underwear, and we’re just a heap of desperate, shaky limbs, exposed skin and bare bones, clinging and stumbling as we tangle further into this web. He fists my hair again, my neck and breasts arching into him as his mouth finds both. I gasp and mewl beneath his hot tongue, my

hand reaching between us to grip his cock and guide him into me. I can’t wait. I need him to fill me. “God, June,” he moans, his teeth nipping my jaw as he slips an inch inside. Then with one hand in my hair and the other dragging downward to clutch my hip, he slams into me all the way. I cry out, biting my lip. He starts thrusting. Hard, fast, punishing. He fucks me like he’s trying to wash away everything sweet and good between us, until we slip into the darkness where our sins are overlooked.

“Fuck,” he grits out, one hand slinking up to rub my clit, the other still wrapped around my thigh. “I want you to come. I want you to come so fucking hard.” “Brant…God…” I cry, my body angled so he’s hitting me just right. So deliciously deep. “You’re so wet. You’re soaking me.” My hands clutch at the bedsheets, fisting them in my palms. “Ohhh…”

I’m not sure if it’s the gesture itself or the aftershocks of his climax or the heaviness of it all—but Brant breaks down. He falls on top of me, slightly to the side so I don’t bear the brunt of his weight, and lets out a ragged, painful sound near my ear. He gathers me into his arms, so close, so vulnerable, and he trembles beside me as emotion funnels through him and warm tears rain down on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” I whisper, my fingers twining through his air. “I love you, and I promise it’s okay.”

“When the day comes and you regret this,” he murmurs softly into my neck, his voice cracking, “I pray you can forgive me.” My chest tightens. My muscles lock up, and all I can do is cling to him tighter. “I’ll never regret this,” I tell him. I kiss the top of his head, his damp curls tickling my nose. “Never.” I’ll never regret you.

“Hey,” I greet her, my hand extending to clasp hers. “They smell amazing.” Her joy flickers back to life. “Yeah? I’m a little impressed I didn’t burn them,” she says, ducking her chin to her chest. “I used Grams’s recipe. I always thought they were the best.” June’s words hardly register. The brownies are forgotten as I lift both hands to cradle her cheeks, moving in to her until our chests kiss. “Are you happy?” I ask softly. There’s a catch in my voice, sounding louder than my words. Worry claims her pretty features, and she reaches up to hold my wrists. “Of course I’m happy. I’m so happy.” “Even though you’re not dancing? Even though you’re not in New York?” She falters. It’s only for a second, only for the briefest, tiniest moment, but I see it. I see it.

“Yes,” she nods, squeezing me. “I’d rather be here with you.” I press our foreheads together. “What if you’re missing out? What if you always regret not chasing your dreams?” “Brant…I love you. I’ll never regret choosing love.” “Your dreams have an expiration date, June. Love doesn’t. I’ll always love you,” I murmur, bringing her closer. Breathing her in. “You know that, right?” She pulls back a little, licking her lips. “What’s wrong?” “I’m afraid you’re making a mistake.” “We’re not a mistake,” she insists. Her nails dig into me, carving little crescents into my arms. “We were written in the stars. Stars don’t make mistakes.”

The urgency swells between us, as it always does. I lift her up by the thighs, wrapping her legs around my waist. When I pull back from her mouth, I breathe out, “I want to make love to you.”

“Okay.” She nods eagerly, arms linked around my neck. “Bedroom.” I kiss her again, then start walking the short distance to my room. “I want to make love to you, June. Sweet and slow and soft. The way it should have been that first time.” “It was perfect,” she rasps out, clinging to me as I carry her into the bedroom and set her on the mattress. “It’s always perfect.” “It’s always rough. Dirty.” I pull off my T-shirt, then start unfastening my belt and slacks. My eyes heat as I watch June shrug out of her cotton sundress, her hair splaying around her on the white sheets. “It’s like I’m trying to bury us deeper into the dirt, until we sink, until there’s no way out. Because I don’t want to find a way out.” Crawling on top of her, she immediately coils her legs around my hips and tugs me close, inching up to kiss me. Her hands sift through my hair as she murmurs, “I don’t either.” “God, June… I don’t want you to be my filthy little secret. You’re better than this.” “I’m meant for this.” My fingers weave through her soft hair as I pepper her face with kisses, from her forehead to her nose to her perfect parted lips. “I want to treasure you. Cherish you. Adore you.” Her back arches as I trail my mouth down her neck. “You do that every time.”

And when I finally sink my cock into her, my own desperation blinding me, I gather her closer than ever, our faces a whisper apart, our bodies slick and tangled. She whimpers as I move, slow and deep, rocking against her as our eyes remain locked. Then I say it: “Junebug.” Her whimpers morph into a startled cry. Something like disbelief. Glorious disbelief. My arms cage her in as I hover over her, fingers twining through her hair, my hips pumping, languid yet fervent. “You were right,” I confess, my lips caressing hers as I feel her thighs cling tighter around me. “That name didn’t come from innocence or some kind of familial connection. It was born out of love. My love for you.” Her eyes glaze with tears, her hands gripping my shoulders. She nods as breathy little sounds spill out of her. “And maybe that love has evolved and blossomed over the years, but it still comes from the same place. And that place is beautiful. That place is pure.” Wetness stains her cheeks, her lips trembling. “You’re my Junebug,” I tell her, sweeping back the strands of hair matted to her forehead. I kiss her hairline. “You’ll always be my Junebug.” She sniffles, sucking in a shuddering breath. “You mean it?” “Of course I mean it.”

Brant: I need to clear my head. Kip is letting me sleep on his couch for a few days. I’m sorry, Junebug. I’m sorry I’m not strong enough right now. I’m sorry I let you down, and I’m sorry for loving you in the worst possible way. I failed to protect you, and it’s killing me. I need to figure out what’s best for us—for you. I just need some time.

Me: We need to talk. Today. It’s important. Meet me at the apartment when you get off work. I hope you’re okay…I love you. <3 Junebug

“I stayed away because I’m completely defenseless when I’m around you, June. Logic flies out the window, and all I want to do is whisper pretty lies into your ear, telling you we’re going to be okay. I can’t be around you without touching you, and I can’t touch you without wanting to keep you.”

“This feels wrong. It feels awful.” “It only feels wrong because I’m standing right in front of you, trying so damn hard not to break,” he murmurs. “When you’re on that plane and your head is clear, you’ll know it’s right.”

With one hand still holding in my cry, I use the other to drag a bag as I move backward. It scrapes along the floor, mimicking the sound of my shredding heart. That’s when I feel him. That’s when he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I’m trying to be strong because I know this is what’s best for you,” he confesses, his voice cracking on every word. “But I’m not built for this, June. I’m not built for a life without you.” My stifled sob falls out, and I spin around in his arms, collapsing against his chest. He holds me so tight, crying right along with me as we shake and mourn and grieve. “You’ve always been here,” he says through gritted teeth, cradling the back of my head. “It’s always been you and me, and I’m going to be so fucking lost without your hugs and the sound of your voice and your sweet smiles.” He squeezes me in his steadfast arms. “But I’ve been selfish for too long. I need to let you fly.” “Come with me,” I weep into his T-shirt. “Fly with me.” “I can’t, Junebug. You know I can’t.” Brant twines his fingers through my loose hair, kissing the top of my head as he shudders

against me. “You need this. You’ve lived your whole life in my shadow, and it’s time for you to find your place in the world.”

Sniffling, I murmur, “What if my place is with you?” “Then I’m here. I’ll be waiting.” A gasp leaves me as I press my cheek to his chest. “You mean it?” “Of course I mean it.” I can’t stop crying. Even though I know in my heart that I need to do this, it’s the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I want to prove to my parents that this isn’t a temporary lapse in sanity, or a dirty little consequence of our tight-knit bond, and I can only do that through time and space. This decision is about more than just dancing. Our future depends on it. Glancing at him with swollen, puffy eyes, I reach up and clasp his face between my palms. “I know we’ll be miles apart, but…” My lips quiver. My hands shake. “You’re still Brant…and I’m still June.” His eyes close, and he says in a strangled breath, “That’s right.” I pull up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “You told me one year on Christmas Eve that sometimes a lot of love can make you cry,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to the little freckle that dots his lower lip. “I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t even want it.” I kiss him again, lingering longer. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, Brant. Loving you is worth every single tear.”

His forehead crashes against mine as a gut-wrenching sound passes through his lips. “A lot of love…is a good thing to have,” he says, his voice worn and raw, echoing his past words. “The downside is the more love you have, the harder it is to lose it.” “We’ll never lose it. I’ve been yours since the day I was born and I’ll be yours until the day I die. Distance doesn’t change destiny.” Brant scoops me into his arms as our mouths collide and our tongues seek. The kiss is desperate and frenzied, full of salt from our tears and mournful moans. I feel him breaking down the longer our mouths remain fused, the longer he touches me, longing to keep me. His grip tightens, his fingers fisting any place he can reach—my waist, my neck, my hair. He devours me, angling his mouth to taste new places, hoping to unlock one where we can both escape to.

His mother’s last words to him filter through my mind, tightening my chest with sentiment. I heave in a rickety breath, taking a small step back. “I’ll always protect you.” I watch him carefully as a beat passes.

As he absorbs my words. His kissed lips part with a sharp inhale. “Now…cover your ears,” I tell him gently. Brant’s eyes flash with memory. With painful familiarity. A single tear makes a languid, agonizing descent from the corner of his eye, down his cheek. But he does it. He obeys. His hands lift slowly as his eyes close tight, more tears pooling and falling, and he cups his ears, exhaling a long, tapered breath. “I don’t want to leave,” I begin, placing my own hands over his, keeping my voice low. Tears pour down my face like a fractured dam. “I want to stay and build a life with you—a beautiful life I know we deserve. I want to marry you, Brant Elliott, and I want to make love to you every night beneath rainbows and stars. I want to have children with you. I want to raise them strong and brave, just like their father, and I want to sing them lullabies by the light of the moon.” My words clip with grief, and I take a moment to find my voice again. With a sorrow-filled sigh, I finish, “I don’t want to chase my dream because it’s not a dream without you in it.” I stare at him. Exposed, vulnerable, so beautiful and broken. His palms are pressed against both ears as wetness streaks his face like sad, falling raindrops. His eyes are still squeezed shut as his body shivers with emotion. I pull away, letting go of his hands and waiting. A few heavy moments stretch between us before Brant’s eyes flutter open and his hands slowly drop from his ears. He licks away

the tears at the corner of his mouth and whispers raggedly, “What did you say?” Closing my eyes, I gather my courage. And I lie to him. “I said…this is for the best. It’s better this way,” I murmur, trying to keep my tone level. Strong and fearless. Then I step in to him one more time, lift up, and place a final goodbye kiss to his lips. “Look for me over the rainbow, Brant. This Junebug will be flying high.”

“You don’t think that…” I rush out, looking up at Andrew, my limbs trembling. “You can’t possibly think that of me…” A brief moment of regret flickers in his eyes, but he slips the mask back on. “What am I supposed to think? You were having sex with your sister.” “No…” “Your sister, Brant!” “She was never supposed to be my sister!” I burst out, my head falling back against the wall as venomous tears drench my eyes. My chest caves in, my ribs burn, my breath hitches. “And it’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair,” I chant, broken and hopeless. “She was supposed to be Theo’s sister and we were going to grow up together as neighbors. I would’ve just been a regular boy who had a crush on a regular girl, and that boy would have fallen in love with that girl the right way.” Samantha stills beside me, her own eyes watering. Andrew goes silent. Watchful. His face untwists as he listens.

“It’s not fair that my father had to lose his fucking mind and ruin my life, taking my mother away from me while also destroying any chance I had of a future with that girl—that amazing, incredible girl with the purest heart I’ve ever known.”

“The girl who removes all the purple taffies out of the bag because she knows I don’t like purple, and who wears perfume that smells like desserts because it reminds me of my mother, and who bakes me things even though she doesn’t like to bake because she knows I love sweets, and who’s brave and kind and so fucking good it’s impossible to see any other girl but her.”

“I love June. I’m in love with June…madly, completely, infinitely. I’m in so deep, there’s no way out. And I’d love her no matter what, regardless of the circumstances, regardless of if we were neighbors, friends, classmates, or strangers. I was always meant to love her.” I swallow and close my eyes. “But these are the cards I was given. These are the shitty, unfair circumstances I was forced into, and instead of a blessing my love for her is a curse. And I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry for that.”

Squeezing the worn, stuffed toy in my hands, my tears dampen his gray fur. He looks the same as he used to, only dappled with blotches of bleach from where stains were removed. I bend over to pick up the note, remembering there was a final paragraph at the bottom. My eyes skim over the remaining words. PS: He’s had plenty of baths, So he shouldn’t be smelly. But for more of the story Contact Aunt Kelly. All my love, Junebug Still trembling, I reach into my pocket for my phone, set Bubbles on the kitchen counter, and snap a photograph. I send it off to June with the following message: Me: I love you so fucking much it hurts. She reads it right away and texts me back. June: How much? :) Me: To the moon and back. June: That’s not enough… Me: Over the rainbow and back again.

June: That’s better. With tears on my cheeks and my heart in my throat, I think about that final note card I read from the shoebox, and I send June one final message. Me: We’ll fly over the rainbow together one day. Just you and me. I’ll wait for you, Junebug. I’ll wait forever.

“God…let me look at you.” Brant inches back farther and takes my chin between his thumb and fingers. His gaze rakes over me, remnants of worry lingering from my brush with asthma. “Don’t,” I beg. New tears rush out of me as I shake my head. “I’m a zebra.” His lips finally quirk into a smile. “You’re a dream.” “A nightmare, honestly.” I sniff. “What are you doing here?” He steps back more, his hands finding their way into the pockets of his dark slacks. The streetlight casts a yellowy warmth upon him, highlighting the bronze flecks in his hair. Two earthy eyes find mine, glinting with more than he can say right now. “It’s a long story, but maybe we can grab a drink and talk after the show?”

“Of course.” I nod, licking away the paint-tinged tears tickling my lips. I need to hurry inside and fix my makeup with only moments to spare. “Do you have a ticket? Will you be in the audience?” He shakes his head ruefully. “This was sort of last-minute. I got Celeste’s aunt’s number and she said you guys were performing tonight. I was just waiting out here until you were done.” Brant dips his head with a light chuckle. “Celeste caught me.” “Well, I’ll meet you out here after the show,” I say as a smile pulls on my awful zebra lips. I’m certain I look like a buffoon, and any attraction Brant still held for me has exploded into dust. “You’ll wait for me?”

Brant’s eyes squint toward me like my question is absurd. “You know I will.” “You mean it?” My smile blooms. I can’t help myself. “Of course I mean it.” He steps forward, clasping my neck with both palms and pressing his forehead to mine. He inhales sharply, as if he’s drinking me in. “I told you I’d wait forever.”

“Why did you come here?”

“Pauly offered me a job in Manhattan. An executive chef position at his restaurant.”

“Oh my gosh, Brant. I’m so happy for you.” But as I hold him, my fingertips grazing the soft curls at the nape of his neck, feeling his breath against my ear, his answer fully registers. I close my eyes and squeak out into the crook of his neck, “You didn’t come for me?”

didn’t want to assume anything, June,” he admits softly, canting his head so his lips brush the lobe of my ear. “It’s been years. You have a whole new life.” “You’re my whole life.” I say it as if I’ve been waiting years to say it.

“Just because I said I’d wait for you doesn’t mean I expected you to wait for me. There’s no pressure. I wanted to discuss the transfer with you before I took it.” “Take it.” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you sure you don’t want to discuss—” “There’s nothing to discuss, Brant. Take the job.”

“There’s something I need to know,” he says breathlessly, flipping me around until my breasts are pressed against the hotel room door. I squeak in surprise as his mouth draws close to my ear and his strained breaths mingle with the sound of his zipper sliding down. “Tell me how many other men have been inside of you. I need to know, even if it kills me.”

“How many, June?” He picks up speed, fucking me hard with his fingers and nudging his erection between the back of my thighs. I feel like I might come, and it’s only been ten seconds. “Only you,” I manage to pant out. “No one else.”

“Oh God…” I whimper as his hips start bucking. Our tongues tangle wildly and without direction, as if we picked up a guitar and just started playing, unskilled and unprepared yet knowing it will still make music. With fingers knotted in my hair, his forehead crashes to mine; he has a look in his eyes that’s pure possession. Primal heat. “No one else,” he rasps, mimicking my words. “Only you.”

His eyes flutter closed. “It’s always so urgent between us,” he murmurs, hissing through his teeth as my hand reaches between us to grip his cock. “So hard, so dirty. I always fuck you like it’s going to be the last time I’m ever going to fuck you.” “Maybe I like it a little dirty,” I confess, rubbing the pad of my thumb over his wet tip. “It’s hot. You make me come so hard.”