Page 63 of Bitter Notes


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“You’re a perpetual grump!” I shout after him, finally catching up and throwing my arm over his shoulders.

“Grump this,” he quips, shoving me away with a soft chuckle.

“Just don’t be a dick for once, okay? River is cool. River is…” I smile, thinking about the way she feels when I’m nestled deep inside her. And the way she lights up when I walk into a room. God, she’s extraordinary, and I never want to let her out of my sight.

Asher grunts in response, rolling his eyes at my expression and digs his keys from his pocket once we reach the bright red front door of Rad and Callum’s shared home. It’s a quaint ranch-style home nestled on the edge of the neighborhood. Heavy woods surround the backyard and side yards, leading to Central Lake glistening in the evening sun. The house itself is off on its own, giving us the privacy we crave. It’s the one place we love to come to when we need to get away. It’s our space—our home.

“Let’s discuss what we need to do with the Battle of the Bands and how we’re going to get there in the first place.” Asher shakes his head, shoving the front door open to a quiet house. His nose wrinkles when we step inside, shutting the door behind us.

“Well, they weren’t playing Angel Warrior all day,” I mutter, noting the dark TV and living room.

On any given day, that’s where we find them—curled up on the couch in an intense battle between the angels and demons. They’ll yell and fight after a long day of making money any way they know how. Recently, we’ve gotten income from Rad’s dirt bike races and the few gigs we find here and there from our performances. Callum brings money in through stocks, which doesn’t give us a lot to go on because he invests it straight from the leftover cash of his trust. The same trust that pays his house bills and gives him a little spending money which has never been enough to get us out of this stupid town and away from Nigel... But we’re saving as much as possible and as fast as we can.

“There aren’t even dishes in the damn sink,” Asher mutters from across the room, looking down at the shiny sink with a wrinkled nose. “His bike is outside.” He peeks out the back door window, furrowing his brows.

“Maybe Cal took his car?” I mutter, peeking in the large dining room off the kitchen, and note an empty table still decorated for the last Christmas Callum’s parents spent here almost two years ago. A heavyweight presses on my chest at the sight.

Callum’s parents were the best of all of ours. Caring. Kind. Loving. They let us come here and hang out, fed us, and ensured we were okay, never knowing the extent of Nigel’s temper against Ash and me, but they could tell we needed a place to hide and regroup. They supplied a sanctuary for us while they were alive, and now, they still are.

When they died, a trust kicked in for Callum, paying his monthly bills and house payment. It provides everything he needs to keep the roof over his head, but nothing more.

It feels like a century ago that they left this world and shattered our reality. At the same time, it feels like only yesterday when we visited Cal in the hospital after the accident. His leg was broken, and his soul was shattered. Somehow, by some miracle, we pieced him back together one day at a time. All of us. Together. Here in this house. It took months to help Callum out of the shadows of his depression. Music has always been our go-to, and his especially. He’s poured himself into his bass every day since.

“Fuck. I’ll go check the damn boathouse,” Asher grunts, pulling the back door open and walking through the woods to the tiny boat house nestled near the lake and dock where Callum’s parent’s boat still hangs, ready for use.

Fond memories resurrect in my mind. Of all the times spent hiding in the boathouse with a fifth of vodka and a can of coke as a chaser. We’ve spent our lives down there and grew up together here.

I roll my eyes, walking down the darkened hallway toward Callum’s room, keeping my ears open for any noises in the silent rooms. It isn’t until I’m right outside the door do I hear two distinct snores echoing through the room—my brows furrow when I push the door open and stop dead.

A grin explodes on my face at the sight before me, and I glue my eyes to her. Even sleeping soundly, she draws me in like a moth to a flame, threatening to burn me alive. Fuck. I’d gladly let her at this point.

There, squished between my two best friends, is the woman I had dreamed about all day. Her chest rises and falls under the thin blanket. My fingers itch to touch her skin and caress what’s mine.

“My fucking River Blue,” I mumble quietly, walking on my tiptoes toward the bed and hovering above them. “So, this is why you two were finally entertained all day?” I whisper above their heads, watching their every move.

“Yes, now go away,” Rad grumbles, pulling River into him. “She’s mine now. I live inside her.” River doesn’t stir when he tucks her head under his chin and soothes back her long brown strands until her peaceful face is all I see. Tiny freckles dot her cheeks, and her pouty lips turn down into a frown—the only sign she’s listening.

“Sharing is caring,” I murmur, slapping him on the back of the head until he jerks completely awake.

He frowns, finally opening his dark eyes, and glares at me with a venomous stare. A big, toothy smile takes over my face just to piss him off more. Rad is a happy-go-lucky guy, but if you wake him up, he’s rather testy and often threatens murder.

“Why?” he groans, holding the back of his head. “I’m telling on you,” he whines, shutting his eyes again. “Asher, come collect your brother. He’s being a douche again.”

“You two are annoying,” River rasps in a sleepy voice, staying snuggled into Rad.

I long to see the warmth of her green eyes staring up at me, but they remain closed. It’s only then that I feel a hint of jealousy spear through me. I want her wrapped around me and snuggling into my chest. Not his. Mine.

“They’re not in the fucking boathouse!” Asher shouts, slamming through the back door and shutting it with a loud thud. “Where the fuck are they?”

Rolling my eyes, I reach over and flick Callum in the ear. Stormy gray eyes find mine when his body jolts awake, and he looks around with confusion, furrowing his brows.

“Band meeting. We have shit to discuss,” I announce, leaning over Rad and kissing River’s cheek.

“You all have fun,” she mumbles, burying her face deeper into Rad’s neck with a whine. “I’ll hold down the fort in bed.” I snort, pulling the blankets off all of them.

“Whyyyyy?” Rad whines. “This is the rudest wake-up call in history. Can’t we sleep for five more minutes, Dad?”

“No,” I chuckle, reaching over him, wrapping my arms around River, and kissing her again.

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