Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
But today, we are lucky to have Uncle Calder onboard, who never lets them down either. He’s on the deck teaching them how to fish, giving Thorsen and me a rare opportunity to spend an afternoon naked under the covers.
“How long do you think he’ll last before they tire him out completely?”
Thorsen’s chest rumbles with laughter. “I’m surprised he’s lasted this long.”
“Think we have enough time for round two?” I slip my hand beneath the covers, barely grazing his cock before the sound of laughter spills into the corridor.
“Incoming!” Calder yells before the door bursts open.
Thorsen and I sit up with matching expressions of guilt and amusement as Calder rolls his eyes. “Five years and you two still can’t keep your hands off each other. Uncle C is off duty now and in need of a stiff drink.”
“Thank you, Calder,” Thorsen calls after him as he heads out the door.
I smile as the boys leap onto the bed, jumping up and down without a care in the world as they tell us about the fish they saw. Both their cheeks are flushed from the salty air, and they look just as wild as their father. In fact, the twins could probably pass for his twin in another twenty years. While Thorsen likes to say there are parts of me in there too, I see every detail of my beautiful husband entwined into their features, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Somehow, at some point, my life turned out to be a fairy tale. It’s the type of fairy tale where my husband still spanks me and fucks me like he owns me, but it’s a fairy tale just the same. When he isn’t busy taking care of us, we’re busy taking care of him, and by some miracle, we have found balance in this crazy world.
There are still dark days, and I think there always will be, but we get through them together. Our pasts can’t haunt us as long as we keep looking forward to the future together. Dr. Blom is quick to remind us of that during our weekly visits. To this day, Thorsen doesn’t miss his appointments, and over the years, he’s managed to build to completion an entire fleet of model ships in the hours we’ve spent at sessions. We keep them as reminders that even when they are imperfect, they are still worth saving.
I stay busy doing charity work and occasionally fly back to London to help Olivia at the sanctuary. It’s one of the boys’ favorite things to do, and it always amazes me to watch them as the smart, compassionate beings they are.
During one of our visits a few years back, Thorsen and I stumbled across a group of transients digging through the local rubbish bin. They were eating a moldy loaf of bread, fighting over the crumbs, when one of them looked over at us. It caught me off guard when I saw the horrifically scarred face. In place of her shiny blonde hair was patchy, greasy strings that hung from her head. I wouldn’t have even recognized her if it hadn’t been for their presence in Cranbrook. The three women were the most horrific sight I’d ever witnessed.
The experience shook me, and I couldn’t really explain why. I hadn’t expected to see them, and it left me unsettled for days. It wasn’t long after that when Thorsen started to tell me a story as I was drifting off to sleep. The story was about three women who haunted the forest of Aokigahara. According to legend, the trio had been dropped so deep into the vast, dense forest that they could never find their way out. The only souls they ever stumbled across were those who came there to die, and even those dark souls were so terrified of their hideous faces, they refused to speak with them. For the rest of their days, they were doomed to wander the sea of trees, surrounded by death and sorrow.
Oddly enough, I never saw Narcissa, Lavinia, or Magnolia again. And a part of me suspects that the legend woven by my god of thunder might not be such a legend after all.
“It’s almost bedtime for you two.” Thorsen ruffles the boys’ hair as they snuggle in beside us.
“Can you tell us a story?” They beg in unison. “Please?”
Thorsen looks at me, and we all settle into our spaces on the bed, the boys curling up beside their father as he covers them over with the top blanket.
“What story would you like to hear?” he asks.
“The god of thunder!” Atlas shouts.
My lips tilt up in amusement as I lay my head back against the pillow and listen to Thorsen tell this tale for the thousandth time. As the story goes, a dark lonely god locked himself up in his castle, swearing that he would never let anyone in. He was angry, and he didn’t like to venture outside of his fortress, but one day, he was forced to. The god attended a ball, where he met a goddess of fire who wanted to save her furry friends. She was pure-hearted, but he thought she was deceiving him like everyone else. When his thunderous moods caused a hundred storms that shook the earth, somehow, the goddess survived them all. And when he saw that she was indestructible in the face of his thunder, the clouds began to clear, and the sun began to shine on the land that had been cast in darkness for so long. The god immediately fell in love with the goddess, and they created two perfect boys in their likeness. Their names, coincidentally, were Atlas and Frey.