Page 102 of Mayflower

"She’d so love you, Kai,” Callie whispers in a broken voice, “and it's unfair and…”

"Baby girl, come here…”

I move to sit on the edge of the stone slab and hoist her into my lap. Right away, she folds her legs under her, wraps her arms around my neck, and buries her face in the crook of my neck.

It’s okay. I’ve learned how to fight these bursts of grief. We all have them. I slip into depression once in a while. It’s easier when a bunch of us are together, and we reminisce about the old times. The collective trauma is somehow faster to combat. As if it’s divided between us all.

"My dad would've loved you too,” I say as I stroke her hair. “And Lilly would. But they are not here. We are. And we are lucky. So lucky. I'm so fucking lucky to have you, Callie. Many people are not as lucky as us. You realize this, right? Many still have to deal with the past on their own.”

“Yeah, I know.” She pulls back to look at me and nods, trying to smile through tears.

“There's a solution."

“Sorry,” she whispers, wiping her cheeks with a little sniffle, and looks at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We have our own kids."

A laugh escapes her, mixed with a little sob and a sniffle. "Trickster,” she murmurs, running her fingers through my hair.

"It's true. I want to have a family with you. We’ll have a whole new world that we’ll see through our kids. I'd love mini-Callie running around."

The smile on her lips is growing. "What about little Kai?"

"What about both?"

"Both works."

“See?” We learned to fix things fast in this fucked up world.

She traces the tattoo on my bicep with her forefinger, making my skin break out in goosebumps. I’ve long stopped cringing at people’s touch. And I started loving hers. It’s amazing what the approval of the person you love can do to your self-esteem. I used to hate taking showers and running my hands down my scarred body, feeling every ridge and sickly smooth patch of my burned skin. It stopped bothering me.

"What if they ask why their dad's skin is different from theirs?" She means excessive tattoos.

“It’s not different. Just colorful.” I grin. "We’ll tell them it's war paint. Their dad earned it when he had to fight for their mom.”

Callie sucks in her bottom lip and bites on it, casting her eyes down.

"Baby girl? Callie?"

I lift her chin, and her eyes are pools of tears again.

Oh, shit. I thought we got over it. I got over it. I’ve made peace with the memories, made peace with Crone. He is truly my brother. We both talked it over many times and decided we were the closest family to each other.

“No, no, no, baby girl,” I calm her. It’s that time before her period, and her hormones are through the roof. “We are not doing more tears today.”

She sniffles and nods in rapid succession. “Yeah. Sorry. I just… Got carried away.” She smiles. “I just love you so much."

She wiggles on my lap until her legs are wrapped around my hips and her arms around my neck, and she sniffles and kisses my face, sniffles again, and kisses me.

“I just had a little meltdown. You proposing and everything. I just wish I could share this?—”

“Shhh, we have the whole island to share this with. All right, no tears anymore, okay? It was supposed to be planning our future, then sex."

She bursts out in laughter. “My tears just totally cock-blocked you.”

I grin and pull back to inspect her face. “Yeah, look at you.” I tap the tip of her nose with my forefinger. “Your nose is red, all stuffy. How am I supposed to work with this talented mouth when you can't breathe through your nose?"

She gapes at me. "Kai! You are awful!" She bursts into laughter again.

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