“I’m sorry.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For everything you’ve gone through because of me. Getting shot. Almost dying. Being stuck up here in pain because I needed?—”
“Stop.” I turn her to face me. “I got shot because I was protecting my family. Because I was keeping you safe. I’d do it again.”
“You almost died.”
“But I didn’t. You kept me alive.” I cup her face. “We’re even.”
“We’re not even close to even.”
“Then we won’t keep score.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she says, “I love you.”
The words hit me harder than the bullet did.
I’ve spent my entire adult life avoiding this. Avoiding connections that run deeper than brotherhood. Avoiding anything that feels like it could break me.
But standing here with Bonnie, her face open and honest and full of something I don’t deserve—I can’t run from it anymore.
“I love you too,” I say.
Her smile is like a sunrise. Bright and unexpected and perfect.
She rises on her toes and kisses me. Slow. Deep. Full of promises neither of us knows how to keep, but we’re going to try anyway.
When she pulls back, she rests her forehead against mine. “Does it hurt? Your side?”
“Like someone’s stabbing me with a hot knife.”
“You shouldn’t have climbed all those stairs.”
“Probably not.”
I look at her. The woman carrying my child. The woman who’s stronger than she knows. The woman who just had her entire world flipped upside down and is still standing.
Her eyes fill with tears, but she’s smiling.
“You know what’s funny?” she says.
“What?”
“When I first met you, I thought you were cold. Distant. Impossible to reach.” She laughs. “Turns out I was wrong.”
“I am cold.”
“Not with me.”
“No. Not with you.”
“Ghost?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember when you accused me of being a traitor? When you thought I’d set Dad up to get arrested?”
