He said it so matter-of-fact, like it was a law of physics. I looked at him, at the mouth that had just a week ago been smiling at our wedding, at the eyes that had shone brighter than anything the courthouse could offer.
I swallowed, but it scraped all the way down. “It doesn’t go away,” I said. “The fear. The anger. The part of me that wants to destroy the whole world just so you’ll be safe.” I pressed my thumb gently into the bruise on his cheek, and he leaned into it, unflinching. “When I saw them hurting you, something broke inside me, Sunshine. I wanted to kill them. I still do.”
The confession sat in the air, heavy and real. I expected him to shrink away, to judge me, to realize what kind of monster he’d signed up for.
But Levi just smiled, slow and sly, the way he always did when he caught me off guard. He scooted closer, body lining up against mine, hip to thigh. “I know,” he said. “And that should probably scare me, but it doesn’t.” He leaned in, nose to nose, the heat of his breath melting the last of the chill. “It makes me feel safe.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “You’re not supposed to encourage it.”
He shrugged, like it was nothing. “It’s not encouragement. It’s honesty. If you weren’t a little bit terrifying, you wouldn’t be you.”
I grinned, and it hurt in a good way. “You’re not scared of anything, are you?”
He rolled his eyes. “I just got my ass kicked by a middle-aged man in a rental suit. You’re the only thing in this room I want close to me.”
I reached down, pulled him flush against my chest. He went without resistance, curling into the curve of my body like we were designed that way. My hands found his back, fingers spreading wide across the bandage, and I felt the steady rise and fall of his breath.
For a second, the urge to say something sappy—something about how I didn’t deserve him, how he was my home, how I’d kill for him and die for him and every cliché the movies ever tried to sell—rose up and threatened to break free.
But I didn’t say any of it. Instead, I pressed my mouth to the crown of his head, breathing him in, letting the smell of his shampoo and the warmth of his skin root me to the earth.
He made a sound—a low, contented hum—and the vibration of it rumbled through my chest.
“I’d burn the world for you,” I said, voice gone to gravel.
He grinned, even with the split lip. “Good. I like it when you get possessive.”
“Careful. I might start thinking you want to be owned.”
“Maybe I do,” he whispered. “Maybe that’s the point.” He pulled me down until our foreheads touched, the air between us electric. “Promise me,” he said. “Promise you’ll never let them win. Even when I’m an idiot and walk into trouble.”
I squeezed him tighter. “That’s a stupid promise.”
He laughed, the motion making both of us wince. “It’s what you signed up for.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
He turned his head, lips ghosting along my collarbone. “You know what I think?” he said, words slurring a little from the meds, or the exhaustion, or both.
“What?”
He propped his chin on my chest, looking up at me with those impossible blue eyes. “I think we’re not broken. We’re just…built different. Like a fence after a storm. Might look beat up, but it’ll hold.”
I barked a laugh, and the sound felt real for the first time all night. “You and your metaphors.”
He grinned. “They’re good metaphors. You should try one sometime.”
I let my hand drift down his back, settling on the curve of his hip. I could feel the ridge of bone, the evidence of too many weeks spent anxious and underfed. “Maybe I will. When you’re less concussed.”
He rolled his eyes, but the smile didn’t leave his lips. “Deal.”
We lay there, neither of us talking, just listening to the house creak and the wind slide over the roof. I traced the edge of a bruise on his shoulder, memorizing the shape so I could watch it fade. He closed his eyes, lashes brushing my skin, his breath warm on my neck.
After a while, he spoke. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken, for loving you like this.”
“You’re not broken.” I meant it. “You’re the only thing that works right in my life.”
He laughed, then kissed me, gentle and slow, like we had all the time in the world. I stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows crawl across the plaster, and felt the tension bleed out of my body one muscle at a time.
