I frame her jaw with both hands, keeping her eyes on mine because she deserves every word straight and true, not left to doubt in the dark. “I love you. I know I’ve told you this before, but I don’t think you realize just how much.”
Her breath catches like the words hit someplace raw.
I keep going before fear has the chance to choke me again. “I love you every second. Even when I’m pissed. Even when I’m scared. Even when I’m saying shit I don’t mean because I’m trying not to lose you.”
Her mouth parts slightly, like breathing suddenly became a skill she has to relearn.
“I love you so much it fucks me up,” I whisper. “I didn’t know it was possible to want someone this bad. To need someone this much. It terrifies me.”
A tear slides down, maybe from her, maybe from me, and it doesn’t matter because the pain is shared anyway.
“You’re not a burden,” I tell her, the words pulled straight from my chest. “You’re the only thing in this world that feels like hope.”
Her breathing stutters, chest rising too fast, fingers curling tight into the couch like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
“If anyone ever hurt you,” I add, voice going rough and deadly at the edges, “I’d burn the world down and watch it fall.”
She stares at me like she doesn’t know whether to melt into me or shove me away again. Like she wants to believe me but the bruise on her heart isn’t healed enough yet.
I thumb a tear from her cheek. “Please don’t doubt how much I want you. How much I choose you. Every day. Every breath.”
Her chin wobbles. She squeezes her eyes shut a moment too long before opening them again.
“You didn’t say any of that last night,” she murmurs.
“I know.” It comes out broken. “Last night I chose fear instead of you.”
“And today?” she asks.
I move closer until our noses almost touch. “Today I choose you. I choose you every fucking day from now on.”
Another tear slips down her cheek. Then another. Her lips tremble when she tries to speak, so instead she reaches up and grabs a fistful of my shirt like she’s drowning and I’m air.
I wrap a hand around the back of her neck. Not to trap her. To keep her from falling apart. “You are it for me,” I tell her. “There’s no one else. There’s never been anyone else like you. You are my whole damn world.”
She finally lets out a sound. A small, gutted noise that sounds like pain and relief tangled together. Her fingers tighten in my shirt, pulling me closer like she can’t hold back even if she tries. I feel her breath shake against my lips. One tiny moment where we’re both suspended there, on the edge.
Then she closes the distance. Her mouth crashes into mine and it’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s messy and desperate andsoaked in every fear, every apology, every second we almost lost each other.
I grip her waist, hauling her into my lap like I need her on me, around me, fused to me just to stay alive. She gasps against my mouth and that sound wrecks me. I kiss her harder, deepening it, showing her without words what she means to me.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers burying in my hair as she pushes closer. Like she’s trying to erase the space where I hurt her. Like she’s clinging to the version of me who worships her and refuses to let go.
She tastes like salt and heartbreak and everything good I’ve ever fought for. I tilt her head gently, opening her up to me, and she whimpers into my mouth, her breath catching on every inhale. The kiss keeps building, like neither of us knows how to stop now that we started.
Her body fits against mine perfectly. Familiar. Home. I pull back only a fraction, our foreheads pressed together, breaths mixing fast and heavy. “I’m right here,” I whisper against her lips. “Not going anywhere.”
She drags me back in by my shirt and kisses me again, slower this time, but just as intense. Like she’s trying to memorize the shape of my mouth. Like she’s terrified if she stops, she’ll fall apart.
I kiss her back, softer now but still hungry, pouring everything into it that I was too afraid to give her before. Her thumb brushes my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying.
TWENTY-SIX
BRI
I keepmy hands in his shirt like he might disappear if I let go. My heart is still doing the Daytona 500 inside my chest, but the words sitting heavy in my throat are louder than the pounding. “I shouldn’t have left,” I say quietly.
His brows pull together like he wants to argue for me even when I’m already admitting the mistake.
