June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

I knew that Baby June had claimed me in that moment, and she never stopped. She claimed me like the sunrise claims the morning sky with lightness and blush, promise and wonder. She claimed me like a cyclone funneling through a quiet town, taking no prisoners. She claimed my good and my bad, my light and my dark. She took my broken, ugly bits and molded them into something worthy of display. She turned my agony into art.

But at least it wouldn’t hurt half as much as it does right now, being desperately in love with her, unable to see a future with anyone but her…not being able to live a normal, healthy life as a single man because I already belong to someone I can’t even touch.”

“You’ve never felt like my brother!” I shout, temper flaring, cheeks burning hot. I stare at him with a heaving chest, balled fists, and swiftly falling tears. “Theo was my brother. You’ve only ever felt like…mine.”

“No relationship comes without a fight, but it has to be worth fighting for. It has to be worth all the sacrifices you’ll inevitably have to make.”

“You ruined me the day you met me, Brant Elliott. I was born yours.”

Passion is meaning. Passion is purpose. And tragedy is simply the risk we take in order to experience it.

“Never underestimate a man willing to wait forever for the woman he loves.”

Just as we cannot force ourselves to love someone, we cannot force ourselves to unlove them either. Fate can be foolish, and fate can be careless. But fate is always true.