The Depth of A Sister’s Love: Excerpt One

img_2555A sneak peek into The Depth of A Sisters Love

He was no longer the first call she made when she had good news.

Kisses against the refrigerator door were replaced with arguments against the front door.

Naked bodies cuddling in the moonlight a distant memory, now simply two strangers sharing a bed ignoring the fact that neither could sleep.

What do you say to someone that you know loves you but you also know is no longer in love with you? People have written love songs for years about missing the love of their life or wanting their lover back, who has ever written a love song about the love fading away?

Standing at the door watching her place the last of her things in her car he felt the tears in his eyes. Tears not caused by a broken heart but tears of regret. What could have been, should have been, had their beginning been different, had he been more willing to be the man she deserved?

She took her time trying to make the bags fit in a car that wasn’t made for moving. Glancing back at him trying to be strong even though strength was the last thing on her mind. She’d yelled and screamed and made threats about how he would regret it but in the end, when all her energy was gone and the facade of a potentially great love was shattered. She knew the truth. Her heart was no longer in it and it would hurt her losing a friend more than it would hurt her to lose the man.

No tearful goodbyes asking her to stay.

No midnight text messages telling her he needed her to come home.

Love meant needing to see her happy. It meant needing to see her smile. Being with him brought a storm to her life that she was willing to brave no matter what. What he knew that she didn’t was that storms weren’t meant to last forever. Storms were beautiful nightmares.

Watching her speed down the street hear taillights fading as she turned the corner he knew he’d made the right decision. He knew she’d fine happiness in the world she could never find with a man like him.

Every corner in the house, every couch, every chair, every inch of his desk was a reminder of her smile, of her innocence, of their passion. Reminders that would burn deepest when the nights are the quietest. Looking in his phone there were dozens, hundreds pictures of her. Some innocent, some that only he would ever see, the memories too much to handle.

In the silence he closed his eyes wanting to hear her laughter, wanting to hear her car thump over the gate. In the silence he wanted to be selfish.

“I have nothing, you took it all and now you’ve taken my heart. You said you’d break me and you did, I’m too good for you.” Her words a constant reminder of his failures as a man.

He now knew the meaning of love songs and looking at the blood moon out his window he smiled as though he’d made the revelation of a lifetime.

“Why are they called love songs when the words that inspire them hurt like hell.”

Lying down on the floor he just listened to the music and stopped fighting the pain.


The sound of metal hitting metal jarred him awake! Jumping up and looking around he heard it again!


“I told you not to hurt me! You must be crazy to think I’m the only one that’s going to walk away from this devastated.” He looked out the window to see her and her younger sister standing on his front porch with baseball bats, her older sister was leaning against the car.

He laughed, “Now I see why they call them love songs. You have to be crazy in love to put up with this shit.”

Winter Rain and Moonlit Thoughts

Rain is soothing. I’ve always loved the sound of it, loved the way it has it’s own perfect beat.

When it’s late at night and the rain is my best friend we talk and listen and our thoughts become one.

I cut off the porch light and open the blinds, just watching the wetness on the grass, in the pavement.

My mind wonders, some rainy nights I hate being alone. Some stormy nights the isolation gives me life.


A Love Born of the Night Dies in the Moonlight

Their language is unique because no words are needed.

Her smile tells him her resolve is already defeated.

They’re both aware that reality is just a turn of a doorknob away.

Reality is powerful but not as powerful as the intensity of their union.

“This has to be the last time,” she whispers, echoes in desire tainting the purity of her words.

“This can never be the last time because your touch will live forever in my heart.” Rubbing her face, embracing her tears he knew their love was flawed.

Images of her skin blurring the line between fantasy and infatuation.

Visions of his lips caressing the places saturated by her desire.

A love doomed can never prosper.

A love born of the night dies in the moonlight.

~ Demez F. White


Taking Another Man’s Wife Scene III

Standing over the bed, watching her sleep, I wanted to remember her just as she was. Beautiful, calming, sexy. Who was my wife dreaming about? Who was she making love to in her mind? Was it me…

Her phone was on the nightstand, her laptop was on the kitchen table, her iPad on the bed next to her. I didn’t know what was on them, if they were locked, if they were evidence. I’d stared at each on of them, ran my fingers across the keyboard of the laptop and watched it come to life but I just couldn’t be that man. Did I want to be the man that looked through my wife’s things? The man that needed validation that I was enough for her?

Fuck! I wasn’t that man!

I wasn’t that man… but insomnia had a way of making even the most logical and sane of us crazy. I reached for her phone…


 “What are you doing?!” I opened my eyes and saw him holding the phone in his hand! My heart was in my throat, I was so tired when I closed my eyes that I didn’t lock my phone. I panicked, my husband saw me panic. He was too calm, the cable box read 3:32am and he was wide awake and fully dressed standing over me.

“Why do you have my phone?” When I sat up the sheet fell from my neck and I was naked from the waist up. Using sex to stop my husband from breaking both our hearts made me feel no less than a whore but what was my alternative? Him opening my text and seeing his world text another man about how his dick felt in her throat?

“Come back to bed baby? Please… Come to bed.” I hoped to God he couldn’t hear the desperation in my voice. My mouth was dry, I could feel the sweat on my thighs and back, I wasn’t this woman. Please God don’t let him open that phone.

“Just tell me the truth Rocky. JUST TELL ME THE FUCKING TRUTH!!!” I jumped and my back hit the headboard, we didn’t yell at each other, our fights were silly and over and fast as they started. He’d never yelled at me. In my mind I knew if he’d already looked at the phone his hands would be around my throat right now.

In my heart I knew it was just a matter of time before shit got real! I wasn’t ready to lose my husband, my life. The tears started to fall and he squeezed the phone tighter, my body was doing nothing for him. My nipples always got him hard, we woke up in the middle of the night and made love almost on a nightly basis, it was like our bodies were synced for it.

But tonight my body wasn’t going to get me out of this. He knew, I knew he knew but he didn’t know.

“Fuck this Raquel! He turned on the phone and jumped out the bed and tried to grab it! He pushed me down and turned his back to me! I wasn’t going to fight my husband for this phone! My phone! He couldn’t find out about this!

“I’m pregnant! I’m pregnant okay!”

The lie came off my tongue so convincing my hand went to my stomach to protect a baby that wasn’t there. He dropped the phone on the hardwood floor, I hoped it crashed into a million pieces but it just sat there, screen up. Hunting me.

I touched his face, I was driving this man crazy and now I’d done the one thing I promised I would never do. I lied to him about the son he wanted more than anything in this world. “I’m pregnant and I didn’t want you to find out like this! Things between us have been so tense and I just didn’t want you to find out like this baby!”

I could feel the bile at the back of my throat but I knew him, I knew he loved me. I saw in his eyes that he believed me, I wasn’t a groupie or mistress. I was his wife! Wives didn’t lie about these sorts of things.

“You should have told me, you should have told me.” He fell to his knees and put his lips against my stomach. I could feel his tears on my skin. “I’m sorry Rocky, I’m sorry baby.”

My ring shined in the moonlight and my phone was lighting up on the floor behind him. I was going to hell but at least I had another night with my husband not knowing the truth. Because if he did I had no doubt he would burn this house to the ground with me in it.

Scene IV coming tomorrow exclusively on where reading and writing live!