He swallows hard, gaze dragging over my face like he’s memorizing every freckle, every line.
“I knew from the second I saw you,” he says, voice low. “In that stupid clinic, with you smiling at every idiot who walked up to your desk, being patient and kind and… you. I knew you were it for me. I never believed in that before. I thought love at first sight was bullshit, but then you looked at me and asked for my name, and it felt like something in me snapped back into place.”
My heart thunders.
“I’ve been trying to tie you to me ever since,” he admits, a faint, rueful smile crossing his face.
“M-marrying me,” I say, my voice trembling.
“Yeah.” He nods once. “Marrying you. Making sure you moved in with me. Getting my hooks in as deep as I could before you realized you could do better and ran.”
“Grant.” My eyes flood again.
“I didn’t need a wife,” he says quietly. “The military likes those for paperwork. Housing. Pay. Whatever. Yeah, I’ve got the GI Bill, and it made sense to use it. But I didn’tneeda wife. I neededyou. Just you.”
Tears slip down my cheeks.
All this time, I’ve been telling myself this was business. A transaction. A favor. That he could’ve done this with anyone.
But he didn’t.
He chose me.
“I should’ve told you from the beginning,” he continues, voice getting rougher. “I should’ve been honest about what I felt instead of hiding behind the GI Bill and the practical bullshit. But I was… afraid.”
“Afraid?” I echo, because the idea of this big, strong man being afraid of anything, especially something as soft as love, feels impossible.
He huffs out a breath that’s almost a laugh, but not quite.
“Yeah, darling. Afraid,” he says. “I got blown up. Shot. Dragged off the field. I was sent here to heal, but instead, I panicked and picked up a girl from the front desk because she made the world stop spinning for a second. I thought if I told you how much I wanted you, how much I needed you, you’d run. And I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t risk losing you before I even had you.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry if it ever felt like this was just some arrangement. Because it’s not that for me. It never was. I need you, Rowan. Not just in my house. Not just to cook for, or drive around, or make plans with. I needyou. I love you.”
He squeezes my hand again.
“I love you,” he says, quieter now. “So damn much it scares me. If that’s too much, if it makes you uncomfortable, if you don’t feel the same, I’ll back off. I just?—”
“I love you too.” The words rush out of me on a breath, my heart racing.
His eyes widen.
“What?” he asks as if he didn’t hear me right.
“I love you too,” I repeat, stronger this time. “Of course I do. You think I married a stranger and moved into his house and let him see me first thing in the morning just for fun?”
A startled laugh bursts out of him. I keep going because the dam inside me has cracked wide open.
“I thought you didn’t feel that way,” I confess, my voice wobbling. “You were always so… practical about it. Calculated. You talked about the GI Bill and benefits and how it made sense, and I kept telling myself not to fall for you because you weren’t really mine and this was temporary and one day they’d clear you and you’d leave and?—”
“Rowan.” His voice cuts through my babbling, warm and gentle. His free hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “Hey. Darling.”
I suck in a breath.
“I fell in love with you,” I whisper. “Somewhere between you feeding me breakfast in your car and carrying me over the threshold in Vegas and unpacking my dad’s recliner in your living room. I just… I didn’t think I was allowed to say it.”
His eyes go molten.
