And I don't know if it's from all the stress since I saw that woman's head in the box, the fact that I learned today the man I called father for more than two decades isn't my father, or the image of Marco arguing with him, but a terrible pain shoots through my temples and, like a carousel, images flood my mind.
Instantly, I grab Stefan's forearm, trying to stop the wave of memories overwhelming me.
I don't know how long I stand there, teeth clenched, but I hear Eric's voice like I'm underwater.
"Roxy, what's wrong?"
I hear a growl, which I think is Stefan's.
"She needs to go to the hospital," a raised voice says, and I realize it's Marco's.
When the movie in my mind finally stabilizes, I slowly open my eyes, forcing the fog away. I know I have tears in my eyes and my cheeks are flushed, but all I want is to get home.
"I want to go home. To my husband. Now."
And without another word, I get in the car, leaving my father with Marco. The latter has something like fury in his gaze, and I wish I understood what his problem is.
Chapter 46
Roxy
I open the door to find Damien in the hallway, talking with Vasili. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt, jeans, and boots. That earring catches the light, and those dimples soften his face, making him look almost boyish. The moment his eyes land on my tear-stained cheeks and ragged breathing, he moves toward me.
My heart stutters with every step that closes the distance between us, and I have to force my hands to stay still, to not reach for him, to not shake.
"Give me a name," he says, quick as lightning, his hands framing my face.
I stare at this man who's picked me up off the floor every single time. Who put my heart back together, piece by broken piece, after my father's absence. Who pulled me close every time I tried to push him away. Who never gave up on me.
The entire drive here, I planned how to start this conversation. How to put everything into words without sounding insane, without seeming like I'd lost my mind. Butwhen the car pulled up outside my office building, something settled in my chest, and I knew I had to run to him.
"I remember," I whisper, unable to look away.
His brow furrows. I probably do look crazy, smiling through tears, my hands trembling violently.
"You remember," he echoes softly.
"You."
"Me," he murmurs, his eyes widening with something like wonder.
His body goes rigid beside mine, but I force myself to continue.
"The reason you smile—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"It's you." His voice cracks. "It's always been you. You really remember?" His eyes glisten.
I pull him down until my forehead meets his, searching for the courage and words to tell him everything weighing on my heart.
"I love you. I think I've loved you since the first moment I saw you, when I was six. I loved you from the first time you smiled at me. I loved your laugh, I loved your bandaged hand, the way I knew even then that you'd protect me. That you'd be my husband one day." I have to swallow past the knot forming in my throat. "I loved you when every relationship failed because none of them were you. I loved you when you said 'I love you' in that leather factory, and I love you now." I take a deep breath.
I watch the emotions flood his eyes, tears and something so fierce it sends a shiver through my entire body.
Because even though my mind forgot him for reasons I don't understand, my soul always felt safe with him. My soul never forgot the promise made that night.
His hands tighten slightly on my cheeks.
"I love you because you saved me that night. Because that night, a ray of sunshine chose me to be her husband, forever. Because you didn't see the filth and blood on my hands, you saw something worth kissing, worth a kiss on a white bandage. I'll never have the words to describe what I feel for you, and hell, I wouldn't even try to explain it to anyone else. But you're every breath I take. You're every cell moving through my body. You're everything. You always have been," he whispers at the end.
