Bittersweet Melody by Belinda Boring

Author:Belinda Boring [Boring, Belinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, military, ptsd, contemporary, war, social issues, rock star, musician, marine, belinda boring
Publisher: Blushing Heart Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Caylee

I couldn’t think of anything more glorious than my current situation. After a nonstop week filled with classes, library visits, and work-study, laying out in my back yard on a fold up chaise lounge was my definition of bliss.

No pressure or demands.

No brain hurt as I tried coaxing another thousand words out for my latest psychology paper.

The past few days had definitely left me drained, my focus split, but it was all good. The sun felt incredible across my skin, an example of what to expect, as summer grew closer. Without a doubt, this was the first of many future sunbathing opportunities.

“Morning,” Rebecca softly greeted, plopping down onto the chair beside me in a pretty teal bikini top and shorts. “I could seriously spend all day out here.”

I murmured my agreement. Pushing down my favorite sunglasses, I peered over the top of the large, white frames. “It balances out all the hours we spend in class under those fluorescent lights.”

“And the air conditioning. I swear the university wants to keep us shivering in our seats,” Rebecca added. “By the way, I totally want to borrow that swimsuit some time. It’s totally cute.”

“Like totes?” I teased, smiling.

“Absolutely. Like for reals,” she countered in an equally hilarious voice. Conversations with her were always like this—one moment, Rebecca was speaking in her regular tone, and the next, she was mimicking an accent she’d heard. “You’re adorbs, Caylee.”

I couldn’t hold my laughter in. “What can I say, it’s the cherries.” The swimming suit was by far my most favorite purchase, ever. The two-piece was a cool shade of pink with cherries that made me want to drive to the store and buy a big bag of the delicious fruit. The stitching was starting to fray somewhat, and the pattern fading from being washed one too many times, but I couldn’t bring myself to toss it.

Whenever I wore it, it reminded me of that sparkle Owen got in his eyes the second he saw me wearing it. He would get this seductive look as he wet his lips, his gaze skating over my body, setting it on fire with anticipation. It did something to him, and I loved it.

Loved it.

It had been years since I’d been on the receiving end of his hunger and desire. I missed it, and somewhere deep inside my heart, I believed he was still watching, close but so far away. Each time I thought of him, the longing to touch but not being able to, caused my chest to constrict.

I didn’t mean to purposely remind myself of things I’d lost—love I’d lost. Sometimes, the memories simply happened. Like breathing. It came, I remembered, and then it fell away like a ghost being called to its final resting place. I wouldn’t say it haunted me, not now. I was in a much better place with my grief, and not every reminder crippled me.

Like today.

All I felt was his love—another reason I wasn’t quite ready to retire this swimsuit to the back of my drawers.

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