Page 102 of Finding Home

Caleb’s thrusts are greedy and animalistic now, my mouth ravenous as it devours his. I caress his hair, back, and shoulders, as he claims me without holding back.

Our walls are non-existent now. There are no secrets left to keep. He’s got me. All of me. And I’ve got him the exact same way. Good, bad, ugly. Although, when it comes to Caleb, I don’t think there’s an ugly bone in his beautiful body.

“Aubrey,” Caleb grits out, as he moves his body in and out. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you so much,” I choke out, my voice stretched and desperate.

A current of electricity explodes between our bodies, as our souls fuse and an eternal commitment is forged. I thought those romantic carvings on the tree outside were the perfect testament of Caleb’s eternal love and devotion. The biggest grand gesture possible. But now that he’s gone and done that primal, secretthingto protect our family from harm, forever, I feel like my very soul has joined with his. We’re in this together now. Forever.

Caleb loves me, and his daughter, with every ounce ofhim, including the most primal parts. The wildest, most untamed parts that shouldn’t be named, unless it’s in secret, hushed whispers. And now, Caleb knows I love him back, every part of him, the exact same way.

He’s mine. I’m his. We’re a family now.

Forever.

Chapter 41

Aubrey

A week later

Irap on the door of the bathroom stall and call out to Raine, “You okay in there, Boo?”

“Mm hm. I go potty like a big girl.”

“Good girl. But are you maybe all done now and sitting there watching a bug?”

“No, I go pottyandwatcha da bug.”

My mother said it’s normal for kids during potty training to have false alarms that consume ungodly amounts of time. Also, real alarms that take forever, too. She said patience is the most important thing, letting them know they’re doing great, so they don’t get self-conscious and get their wires crossed and start to regress.

“Did you turn into an Italian New Yorker in there?” I tease, chuckling at my own joke. When she doesn’t reply, I explain, “Watcha da bugsounded right out ofThe Godfather.”

“No, IRainey.”

I giggle. Amusing myself at times like these, sometimes at Raine’s expense, is a must to preserve my sanity. “Yes, you are. Take your time in there, Pooh Bear. You’re doing great.”

I look at my watch. The live band started playing their second set right before we walked into the bathroom. So, according to the festival schedule, we still have plenty of time before the live auction begins. I don’t want to miss any portion of that. It’s always my favorite part of the festival, but with all the amazing donations Caleb’s sister and friends gathered for us this year, it’s going to be one for the record books.

Raine starts humming “Pretty Girl” by Aloha Carmichael on the other side of the stall door, so I reflexively start doing the hand movements from the music video on my side.

“I’m doing the dance,” I announce to Raine, before returning to humming along with her.

“Me, too,” Raine says with a giggle.

I laugh. “Less dancing, more pooping, dude.”

Raine giggles again.

“Also, less ‘watching da bug.’”

“He my friend.”

“Did you name him?”

“Buggy.”

“Naturally.” It’s totally on-brand for her. Her stuffed pig is Piggy. Her stuffed horse is Horsey, and so on.

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