Defy (Sinners of Saint 0.5)

“Can you get some fruit as well? We’re out of bananas.”

“There’s one banana you can eat whenever you want, and it’s right here.” He takes my hand, guiding it to his cock.

I roll my eyes. Yup, still a typical twenty-year-old. I’m twenty-eight now, and you’d think I’d be obsessing over marriage and babies. But I’m not. All I think about is him. How it worked out so fabulously. It’s our beautiful chaos, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I might take a bite later,” I tease.

He winces. “Fine, I’ll get you your stupid fruit, woman.”

His tongue travels down from my stomach to my now bare pussy, and he halts, his nose rubbing circles against my clit. “Oh, I think you have something here. Like a scratch or a spot or something.” His hand dives between my legs, and when it rises back up, there’s a small black velvet box in his hand.

I stop breathing altogether.

He licks his lips, offering a lazy smile. “I probably should warn you, it’s not an engagement ring. I’m waiting to turn twenty-one so the trust fund my grandparents have under my name will kick in. I’ll be richer and Starbucks-free. You deserve something incredible. But in the meantime, here’s something to make you remember your high school fling from two years ago.”

With shaky fingers, I open the velvet box and inside rests a necklace. With a charm. A golden anchor. This anchor symbolizing so many things.

The burnt yacht that ripped us apart.

The necklace that brought us back together.

The missing piece I left behind.

My eyes glide up, piercing him with uncontained love. I’m so in love. So completely out-of-my-mind crazy about this boy who grew up to be a man and has given up so many things to be with me. College party life. Football. Things that were his very essence of being two years ago.

“Help me?” I motion with the necklace between my fingers.

He grunts at my request for him to unglue his tongue from my inner thigh, but rises to face me. Taking the necklace from my hand, he brushes my hair aside.

“Truth or dare?” he asks out of nowhere.

“Truth. Brave people always choose the truth.” I grin.

“Is it true that you’ll always be mine?” He lowers his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.

“It’s a truth. And sometimes, when you piss me off, it’s a dare. But it’s my life, and you’re a part of it. Always and forever,” I say.

“Always and forever,” he repeats, and I hold on to my anchor, squeezing it—and my real-life anchor—hard.

The angst. The fear. The part where I let myself go and fall in love with who should’ve been the wrong person but who turned out to be right, so right…it’s all behind us now.

In the end, it was worth it. Every small piece of who made us who we are today.

Stronger.

Happier.

Wholer.

Six Years Later…

Jaime

“Why the anchor?”

I probably should have asked that eight years ago, when we first met, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. I considered it pillow talk, and I was feeling pretty fucking frightened as it was about stalking my Lit teacher.

I’m watching my wife, Melody Followhill, intently, as she rests her feet on top of the coffee table while leaning back on our new couch. The sofa and the table are the only pieces of furniture in our new Kensington apartment—or ‘flat’, as they call it here in London. I said I’d take her to Europe, and I did. The fact I knocked her up here is just a bonus.

You’re welcome, Mel.

“Why the anchor?” she parrots me, grinning as she rubs her thirty-six-week belly, staring at it lovingly as if she can already see our newborn daughter. “Because sometimes, it’s nice to feel like there’s someone who can save you.”

“Who gave you that necklace?” I shoot. The urgency of my questions startles me. I’ve lasted eight years without asking her that, and suddenly, that’s all I want to know about. Melody leans into me, placing her head on my chest. I brush her brown hair from her face and kiss her temple. When she talks, warmth fills my chest.

“I bought it for myself. I was at JFK airport, just about to board the plane back to California after breaking my leg. I wanted something to believe in. More like – someone to believe in. I had no one. My parents were supportive and sad for me, but they didn’t understand. Not really. My friends were scattered all around the country, chasing their own college dreams, creating new, sweet memories. And there I was. Alone. I needed someone. I saw this necklace at a store. I don’t even remember the name. They sold hoodies saying “I Love New York” for ridiculous prices. It cost me a lot, but I remember thinking to myself – I need this. I’m going to get this.”