The words gut me, but I knew it would come up again.
“I know,” I rasp, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll spend every day begging your forgiveness for that. Every fucking day.”
She doesn’t answer right away. She just stares at me, searching my face like she’s trying to see if I mean it. If I’ll keep meaning it tomorrow.
I cup her cheek, thumb brushing over a smudge of soot. “I almost lost you. I can’t—” My voice cracks. I don’t care. “I can’t breathe without you, Fallon.”
Her lashes flutter, and then she leans into my palm like she’s been starving for the contact, too. Her mouth curves with the faintest ghost of a smile. “You’re dramatic.”
I huff out something close to a laugh, though it’s jagged around the edges. “Dramatic? Love, I just blew up a motorcade of killers to get you back. You’re damn right I’m dramatic.”
A little laugh slips out of her, soft but real, and it shreds me more than her tears ever could. Because that sound means she’s still here. She’s still mine.
I tug her in tighter, wrapping both arms around her. She curls into me, head on my chest, body still trembling from the cold. Or maybe it’s the terror she hasn’t let herself show yet.
My hand finds the back of her head, stroking gently, grounding both of us.
“Rest,” I murmur against her hair. “I’ve got you now. Nobody is taking you from me again.”
Her body relaxes just enough that I feel her weight sink into me. A trust so fierce that I will fight every day of our lives to keep it just as it is today.
The helicopter jolts as we hit turbulence. My arms tighten automatically.
She stirs, whispering, “Where are we going?”
“Home,” I promise. “How about we smash down that annoying wall between our flats?”
“There’s a waste of a perfectly good stethoscope,” she manages to joke.
Which means she’s coping. And that’s a lot.
“You can use it right here.” I take her hand and press it on my heart. “So long as this thing is beating, I’m yours.”
The words feel sacred.
Her lips press lightly against my chest, not quite a kiss, more a breath of acceptance. And that’s the moment I know we’ve survived.
Chapter 58
Fallon
Iwake up to a pleasant silence. No drip of IV fluid. No rattle of the cell door. No Kosta breathing too close. No woozy fog crawling through my veins.
I’m in Rhys’s bed. The bed he made me feel like the most precious thing in the world to him. And the dirtiest. In a good way.
I glance down and smile. I’m wearing my set of the matching pajamas I bought for us. My heart hitches. I don’t remember changing out of my clothes yesterday. But that awful dress had blood and glass on it. I never want to see it again.
I don’t remember much else from last night beyond the car crash, the fire, the smoke, and the roar of a helicopter.
Safe. I’m safe.
I push back the covers and sit up. Everything is sore, my throat raw, but my head is clear. No meds.
Closing my eyes, I feel the whirring of my brain going a little crazy. But that’s how I want it. That’s how Rhys loves me.
Voices break the silence beyond the bedroom door. It’s not shouting or the sharp bark of orders. Just gentle murmuring of conversation.
If someone was here who shouldn’t be, Rhys would’ve already put a bullet in their head.
