Page 87 of Striking Range

It’s a funny feeling to see what has always been in front of you, and how you failed to truly understand it. To see how it mattered and what it was worth.

All the different parts of me—the sweet, the anxious, the vicious, the angry—he cradles them so well. I think that the day he was created and brought into this world, his body was molded to fit mine perfectly. To harbor all of my flaws and the weight of my affection.

I was a blind bastard up until that night on my birthday. I couldn’t see past what he already meant to me to see what he should mean.

And he should have meant so, so much more.

My best friend, my brother from another mother… they were not enough.

No, he needed to be mine. He was meant to hold my soul inside of his.

“Are you sunbathing, little puppy?”

The sound of his voice does not startle me. I have engraved it into my flesh—it is similar to the sound of my own pulse.

“I guess I am,” I answer softly.

Everett stands before me, his gentle honey eyes peering down at me. “Are you not cold?”

“Not really.”

He crouches, reaching out a hand to push the curls from my forehead. It’s so warm, his touch.

“Won’t you come inside?” he asks.

“Can we just sit here a moment?” I counter.

Everett smiles, soft and sweet, before plopping down next to me on the grass. His thigh brushes mine, his shoulder pressing into me.

At every point our bodies touch, a sense of calm rushes over me. The moments in which we connect can have startling differences—ones only dictated by his eyes.

When Everett is like this, all warm and gentle and gazing at me so lovingly, my body becomes lethargic. My mind blanks and heart steadies. Yet, the second we are in one of those intimate moments that we so frequent, everything speeds up. My mind will race, my heart will pound, and my hands begin to shake at the sight of his manic expression.

I am then suddenly anticipating. Longing. Desperate.

I love both versions of Evie. I love that I get both. No one, that I know of, has ever been gifted this honor. To him, I am special.

To him, I sincerely think I am everything.

What a pleasurable feeling it is to mean everything to someone else. To mean everything to him.

Perhaps this is the reason I waited so long. Without knowing it, I reserved myself for him.

As the sun sets before us, Everett places two fingers below my chin and turns my head, pressing his lips to mine.

Intentional, gentle, warm. This kiss is the physical embodiment of what his soul does to mine.

Sometimes, in lieu of fucking me, Everett will be overcome by the need to just exist like this, touching and loving and being here together. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You look so pretty today,” he whispers against my lips, his fingers caressing my neck.

“Whatever,” I reply, just as quietly.

This is a moment meant just for us—no one else needs to hear.

Everett grins, sliding his hand back and into my hair. “Halloween is tomorrow. Who will you dress as: my little puppy, or my vicious viper?”

I scoff, turning my face to hide in his palm. “I was thinking a zombie or something.”