June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

it was simply a tragedy, and there is no logic in tragedy—tragedies just happen—and how we get through them, what we do after, is our only true power over them.

“What happened? I heard a crash.” Dark circles and a hollow blue stare fix on me, then on June. “Did something break?” Her question hangs heavy between the three of us. June visibly flinches. Pressing forward on the edge of the counter, I close my eyes. Something broke. Something broke twelve days ago when I bolted from that god-awful dance with blood pouring from my nose, the memory of June’s tongue still wet and hungry in my mouth and her delicious moans vibrating my skin. I booked it with tears biting at my eyes as Theo’s murderous threats still lingered in the air, his enraged fists causing my busted face to throb and tingle. I told everyone that I’d slipped… …and I suppose it wasn’t a lie. I slipped. Slipped up. Slipped into a dark, deadly void I may never be able to climb my way out of. I lost my footing in the worst way, and it’s the kind of fall you don’t ever recover from. Then I ran like a coward, drunk on grief, sick with disbelief, and drove right through the scene of a grisly accident. A man in uniform, pinned between two vehicles. Blood spattered along the hood of a wrecked car, red on red. Another man, trapped inside, shouting with anguish. Chaos. Catastrophe. A nightmare that would haunt anyone who had the misfortune of witnessing it. But the worst part? It wasn’t just any nightmare. It was my nightmare. Theo was that man in uniform. It was his blood decorating the red sedan, his body crushed between two pieces of unmerciful metal. It was Kip trapped inside...

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay,” I tell her, stepping up to the edge of the bed and placing my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “I’m only going to ask you what I can do to help ease even a fraction of your pain.”

“Life’s forgotten transient. I’m the by-product of a man who didn’t give two shits about me—who killed my mother, then killed himself. “I’m the leftovers of a tragedy, like that steak you forgot about in the fridge, the one you really wanted to eat. It had so much potential to be good, but you spoiled it. And you don’t want to throw it away because that would be such a damn waste, so you just let it fester, stinking up everything around it that’s healthy and thriving, wishing you had gotten to it in time. It’s futile, though… You always end up tossing it.”

“It felt like I’d give my dying breath just to have one more weak moment with you.”

“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.”

“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.

told you it wasn’t safe and that the dog could bite your hand.” Nostalgia laces her words. “But you didn’t care. You said the dog wanted love…and if you got bit, that was okay. At least you gave it love.”

“I’m your man, June. And the only thing I’ve ever needed is you.” Kissing and biting his way up the side of my throat, he nips my earlobe and says, “Never underestimate a man willing to wait forever for the woman he loves.”