“Yeah, it was. Because I love you, and people protect the people they love.”
“I love you too,” he says quietly.
I blink, wondering if the painkillers are making me hallucinate.
“What?”
“I said I love you, too. I should have said it in that parking garage instead of telling you we were done. I should have said it when you were trying to explain why you made the choices you made.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was scared and angry and hurt, and I thought you were just using that word to justify lying to me.”
“I wasn’t lying about my feelings.”
“I know. I figured that out when you nearly died trying to protect me.”
“So what now?” My fingers creep over to the side of the bed where he sits and I grip the sheet, waiting for his response.
“Now you get better and we figure out how to be together without federal investigations and criminal syndicates and all the other bullshit.”
“What if there’s more bullshit? What if my life is just complicated and dangerous and not worth the trouble?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. If you want that.”
“What about your family? Your team? Do they know about us?”
“They know.”
“And?”
His lips curl up into a smile. “And they’re okay with it. More than okay. My parents said they just want me to be happy. My teammates said they don’t care who I’m sleeping with as long as I’m stopping pucks.” He nods toward the door. “Half theteam’s in the waiting room right now. They’ve been here since yesterday, waiting for you to wake up.”
Tate stands up and covers my hand with his.
“Morrison was here too,” he says. “While you were unconscious. He wanted me to tell you that your father’s medical care is taken care of. The government’s covering it indefinitely, as a thank you for your service.”
“My father?”
“He’s going to get the best care available for as long as he needs it. Morrison said it’s the least they can do for someone who risked his life to take down a criminal organization.”
I think about my father.
It’s over. All of it.
My eyes sting.
“Are you crying?” Tate asks, brushing his fingers down the side of my face.
“The light’s too bright,” I lie, blinking fast.
“Bullshit. You’re crying.”
“Yeah, I’m crying. Sue me.”
He takes my hand, squeezes it carefully. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been through hell.”
“We both have.”
