Three Summers (Redemption #1)

Warmth

POV: Brooklyn
"Warmth can be found even in hostility"
Summer #3

I instantly sit up in bed, my throat hoarse from my screams, which I can still hear echoing in the walls of my room. My heavy breathing is the only sound left in the room as I try to recollect my thoughts. That dream shook my very being, and if the light layer of sweat and the rhythmic beat of my heart were not enough, it was the feeling I have now.

My grandma, Nellie, was always superstitious, and she took things like dreams and "signs" very seriously. Papa said it was ridiculous, that it's just another thing that people use as an excuse for their bad behavior instead of doing anything about it, but I always believed her because her feelings were always right, and I can hear her voice in my head now, telling me to trust my gut and to leave before my inevitable future catches up with me.

I don't even know what the dream means, like wolves, a wedding dress, or running away—what would that even mean?

It's not like I'm in a fucked-up Harry Styles Alpha Wolf fanfiction.

Sighing, I swing my leg over my bed and pace the length of my room, trying to figure out what the hell this could mean, but I'm interrupted when I hear a sudden knock on my door.

"What..."

Instinctively, I grab my fluffy pink lamp as a weapon and slowly make my way to the door. I was definitely not expecting visitors, and I would rather be safe than sorry. The banging never stops, even after I yelled that I was coming. It wasn't until I heard a familiar voice that I realized who it was.

"Brooklyn, are you in there?" "Just open the freaking door!" Valentino yelled from the other side. I drop my silly weapon and immediately unlock the paint-splattered door, only to be pushed right back into the apartment.

Valentino instantly started to scan my body with his hand, asking me over and over if I was okay. It wasn't until he grabbed my face in his hands that I saw the immense worry in his eyes. Why would he think I was not okay?

"I heard your screams, Brooks." Val dragged his hands over his face and sighed, heading over to my couch. I don't miss the way he looks at the mess my living room was in.

"It was just a dream, Val. I'm okay." I walk over to take a seat next to him, ignoring the red stain on my couch. The truth is, I wasn't okay, and both Valentino and I know it; it's just a matter of who is going to call out the lie first. Valentino would know the way that dreams could haunt us and how our minds can use our biggest dreams and worst fears against us. I still remember how he would scream and kick in his sleep, screaming for his papa to stop. We never talked about it; we just sat in silence, picking up the broken pieces of each other. It's our routine and who we are, but sometimes I wonder if that's all we are. If the only reason we're with each other is because of our familiarity with each other,

"It was just a dream," I whispered over and over until I felt a sob crawl its way up my throat. It was just a dream that reminded me that it's never over and that no matter how hard I try to run, I can never win. It doesn't matter if I'm running from my family legacy or even my own feelings. It is not long until it consumes my very being.

Bringing my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around myself as a sort of comfort, even though it doesn't work as well as it used to. My body is numb to the same old medicine of false security I give it. Although it never tires of Val's, the way he would hold me close always sent my senses into overdrive like a drug, and I'm an addict relapsing to his touch, smell, and voice. I need to breathe, and without it, I fear the things I might say or do.

Without thinking, I stand on shaky knees and stand in front of Valentino, stripping myself of the pride hanging on my body. I am here bare and vulnerable in front of the boy who has shown me he can't be trusted, but like the devil, he's the one who taught me how to gamble, so I can be the woman who falls in love with the sweetness of his sins, and I did.

Old habits die hard.

Valentino looks at me with curious eyes as I make hesitant steps to the side of the couch he's sitting on. Like my other half, he knows what I need and instantly spreads his legs to make space for me. Val doesn't say a word, but his action says everything: that he's still here, waiting for me to cleanse him of his sins like an ungrateful servant praying to a god.

I crawl onto his lap, burying my face into the crook of his neck. My body responds to the familiarity of his smell—a masculine woodsy scent mixed with mint—and instantly relaxes.

I pretend I don't notice how Valentino's hands slowly find their way to my thighs, rubbing a little circle with his thumbs. When I stiffened, he released his hands immediately, but I couldn't help myself.

I placed his hands back on me and prayed that this would pass over like a storm passes over a destroyed city. I hope for the silence of the storm and the rainbow that appears after the destruction that holds everyone together.

Hope in the shadow of fear is the world's greatest motivator.

And tonight, I hope for a new beginning, a storm that'll blow everything away—the lies, expectations, and false promises. I just didn't realize that sometimes you'll really get what you wish for, but who would expect to lose everything they built in the process?