Page 150 of Fallen Princess: Shadow Stalker

“He has every right to be. But don’t ever tell him I said that,” Callum takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’ve disappointed him in more ways than one.”

“That’s still no excuse for how he looks down at you. Once upon a time, you two were close. They couldn’t even separate you on Tone Wars, even after Oliver Jones said you were too young. Haze insisted on you two being together, or there was no deal. I remember him telling the judges he wasn’t a musician without you. I miss that connection you both had. It was beautiful to watch.”

“I miss that too, siren. But people grow up, move on, have different goals.”

“You and Haze have very similar goals. And you’re dating the same woman.”

“Mmm….Perhaps you’re right. But I did things. Said lies. Haze tried to help but sometimes people need to take a step back. It wasn’t easy for him to do that. I drifted for a while, not really caring. Drugs do that to you. When you’re high, your only priority is finding your next fix; you don’t look around at the people who care about you and see the pain you’re inflicting on them. I was in rehab a few times. Each time, I focused on getting better. By the time I was in my last rehab therapy, Haze and I had been separated for so long that we were more strangers than brothers. He was fully focused on building his name in the sports business, and I was re-entering a world as a born-again ex-junkie, trying to learn how to survive on my own two feet. I hurt my brother, and I don’t blame him for not wanting to have anything to do with me.”

“But you also hurt,” I say. “He hurt you by walking away.”

“Sometimes one has to.”

“Regardless,” I purse my lips together. “You are also hurt by him not seeing you for the person you are now. It hurts you that he can’t find it in his heart to trust you again.”

“Hmm….” He says thoughtfully and then grins. “Right about now, I’d roll me a fag, light it up and tell you that life is what it is, but my fags might be dangerously laced with molly, so I’ll give it a pass.”

“Plus, it’s a hospital, so you can’texactly smoke.”

His eyes light up, and a lingering quality of amusement sparkles in his gaze.

“What are you sucking on?” he asks curiously, and I look at him confused.

“In your mouth, your tongue keeps swirling something around, shoving it into your cheek.” He clarifies.

I grin amusingly, take the large, colorful jawbreaker from my mouth, hand it over to him, and he takes it and pops it into his mouth.

“It’s a fruity sweet,” he says, unimpressed, crunching down on it.

“You’re not supposed to chew on it!” I exclaim, a little worried he might break his teeth. It’s a well-known fact with these candies.

“Really?” he looks up at me with a hint of playful mischief in his eyes and stops. “Why not?”

“Well, for starters, it’s called a jawbreaker, and you’re supposed to suck on it to wear away all the different fruity layers until you get to the middle.”

“What’s in the middle?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never gotten that far yet.”

“How long do you need to suck on them?” he asks curiously.

“I don’t know, days, maybe.”

“Days?”

“Because of all the different flavors, the taste experience is truly one of a kind. You need to have patience.”

“Nah, I ain’t got none of that!” He takes the candy from his mouth. “Here, take your sweet, babe.”

I take it, pop it back into my mouth, and go to get off the bed, but he reaches out and yanks my hand towards him.

“Come here, you.”

The pull is strong enough for my face to crash against his; his hand tangles in my hair as he holds the back of my head. His kiss devours every bit of sadness and fear I have, as if it’s everything I need him to do to me. I’m not sure how it happened, but the candy lands once more inside his mouth, and he pulls away, taking it out and resting it on the bedside table.

“You taste very fruity-sweet, siren,” he looks at me with a coy grin.

“So do you,” I say as my smile unfolds like a well-kept secret.

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