Miss January (Curvy Girl Of The Month Club Book 1) by Kelsie Calloway

Author:Kelsie Calloway [Calloway, Kelsie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

4

ZANE

I wasn’t wearing a shirt when I came into the main house and I didn’t care, but going into the living room to face my mother’s wrath makes it feel like I’m naked. I half consider grabbing one of Calista’s dad’s shirts and pulling it on, but I quickly decide against that idea.

When she’s dressed, I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. “I’ll protect you, Calista.” I would do anything for her, protect her against anyone, including shielding her from whatever invectives my mom is going to throw at me for what I’ve done.

However, mom is surprisingly calm when we enter the living room. She sits in a chair with a passive look on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. I thought she would be pacing angrily back and forth, but she seems fine. Maybe a touch disappointed, but that’s to be expected when you walk in on your son post-coital. I still take the blame as I lead Calista to the couch. “Don’t be mad, mom,” I announce as we sit down, “this is all my fault.”

“I figured it would be, but that doesn’t mean Calista is in the clear.” She turns her gaze to the brunette beside me and the disappointment in her eyes deepens. “I should have warned you about Zane; he’s very charming. I didn’t think you’d be sucked into his web. I didn’t think you were his type.”

I can’t imagine what she thinks my type is. Calista is beautiful and sexy with a body that I would die to spend the next fifty years fucking. From the way my mom talks about her, she’s smart and has big dreams. This woman is everything I dreamed about when I was younger but never found. If I’d had a woman like her, perhaps I wouldn’t have done what I did.

Calista sits beside me chewing on her bottom lip and refusing to meet my mother’s eyes. She stares at the floor as if the marble pattern is the most interesting thing in the world. “Olivia, I can’t explain it. I walked in and there he was.” When she manages to look up, there’s an air of contrition in her stare. “He made me feel like I was the only girl who mattered to him.”

That’s because she is. “Calista, you are,” I tell her, pleading with her to hear the words coming out of my mouth. She has to know that there’s no one else; there never could be. “You were fifteen when I realized that my feelings for you were changing. You weren’t just some little rich girl my mom took care of, you were a girl on the brink of womanhood. You became a woman who had almost as much importance in my life as my mom. You were everything to me, you still are.”

Watching her grow up in photos was the most surreal realization that life was passing me by while I was in jail. Every picture, every memory that my mom shared, was a painful reminder that life went on.

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