"It won't."
"But if it does."
His grip on my hand tightens. "Then I do what I was trained to do. I keep you alive. That's not negotiable, Vivian. Whatever happens between us, whatever this becomes, your safety comes first."
"Even above your own?"
"Especially above my own."
I want to argue. Want to tell him his life matters as much as mine, that I won't let him sacrifice himself for me. But I can see in his eyes that this isn't up for debate. This is who he is. The protector. The guardian. The man who would die before letting harm come to someone in his care.
"I don't want you to die for me," I say quietly.
"I don't plan to die at all. But if it comes down to a choice, you need to understand which one I'm making."
"That's not fair."
"War isn't fair. Neither is being hunted by the mob." He lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm trying to be honest about what I'm willing to do. About what you mean to me."
"We've known each other two weeks."
"Time is irrelevant. I knew soldiers for years who I wouldn't trust with a cup of coffee. I've known you for fourteen days, and I'd trust you with my life." His green eyes hold mine. "Sometimes you just know."
"Know what?"
"That someone matters. That they're worth protecting. Worth fighting for." He pauses. "Worth loving."
The word sits between us. Neither of us looks away.
"Is that what this is for you?" My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Love?"
"I don't know what else to call it." He shakes his head slowly. "I've been trying to find another word. Something that doesn't sound so fucking terrifying. But every time I look at you, every time I think about you leaving, the only word that fits is the one I've been avoiding."
"Deck."
"You don't have to say it back. I know it's fast. I know we're in an impossible situation. I just needed you to know." He releases my hand and sits back, his expression vulnerable in a way I've never seen. "I love you, Vivian. I don't know when it happened or how. But it's true."
My eyes burn. I blink rapidly, refusing to cry, but the tears spill over anyway.
"I love you too." The words come out thick, clogged with emotion. "I've been trying not to. Trying to be smart about this. But I can't stop."
"Then stop trying."
He's around the table before I can respond, pulling me out of my chair and into his arms. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, feeling his heart pound against my cheek.
"We're crazy," I mumble into his shirt.
"Probably."
"This is a terrible idea."
"Almost certainly."
"We're going to get hurt."
"Maybe." He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. "But I'd rather get hurt loving you than spend the rest of my life playing it safe."
He kisses me, deep and slow, and I feel the truth of his words in every brush of his lips. This man, this grumpy, damaged, beautiful man, loves me. And I love him back. Against all logic, against all reason, against everything I thought I knew about self-preservation.
