Then she said softly, “I don’t want you to.”
I looked up at her then.Really looked.Bruised.Exhausted.Still fierce.Still here.
“I made him angry,” she said quietly.“I wouldn’t drop the case.I wouldn’t lie.I kept thinking, if I just hold on a little longer, Dante will come and you did.”
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” I said.“You survived.”
Her eyes shone.“Because I knew you’d come.”
That faith again.It terrified me.I stayed with her until the nurse kicked me out long enough for them to run a second set of labs just as a precaution.When they let me back in, she was sleeping.I sat there in the dark, watching her chest rise and fall, counting breaths like a punishment or a reward, I wasn’t sure which.
Every time she shifted, my heart jumped.
Hours later they discharged her into my care with strict instructions and a list of things I barely heard.I took her home.
My short term rental place.She didn’t argue.Just leaned into me, exhausted, trusting me with the weight of her.Inside, everything felt different.Smaller.Like the walls knew how close I’d come to losing her.
I helped her out of her clothes with hands that still shook, careful of every bruise, every flinch.She didn’t pull away.Didn’t rush me.Just let me move slow, reverent.
I wrapped her in one of my shirts.It swallowed her.
“Smells like you,” she said faintly.
“Good,” I replied.“That means you’re safe.”
In bed, she curled into my chest immediately, like her body already knew where it belonged.I wrapped myself around her, arm tight at her back, palm splayed over her ribs, feeling her breathe.
Minutes passed.
Then she whispered, “You didn’t hesitate.”
My throat tightened.“About what.”
“Shooting him.”
I didn’t pretend.“No.”
She shifted slightly so she could look at me.“Does that scare you?”
I shook my head.“Losing you does.”
She pressed her forehead to my chest.“I was chained to that post and all I could think was—I didn’t tell you I love you.”
My heart stuttered.
“Nita, baby, I love you and it happened before I ever kissed you the first time.Char was right, you were made for me.“I tipped her chin up gently.“You don’t ever wonder.You already have me, baby.”
Her breath hitched.“Say it.”
“I love you,” I said, quiet but certain.“I’ve loved you longer than I wanted to admit.”
Tears slid down her cheeks, silent and hot.She kissed me then, not desperate, not rushed.Just soft and aching and full of everything we didn’t say in that basement.
I kissed her back like a promise.
Like a vow.
We didn’t need more than that.We fell asleep tangled together, my body curved around hers like a shield, every instinct still screaming watch, guard, protect.
