Kelsey cupped his jaw in her soft hand, the fingers resting on his cheekbone. “Intense awareness and protective instinct and—and all that? A really loudyesinside you, and it’s about me?”
“All those things,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, and her voice became small. She tucked herself against him again, her palm pressed to his chest. “B-but you still sent me away.”
“Because I was a stupid pup.”
“Well, when you figured out how stupid you were, you should’ve called or texted or something, anything. We should’ve talked it through together.”
He tried to imagine having the guts to do that after his resolution to set her free, after finding her online one weak day and seeing her unchecked smile, hearing her buoyant voice, admiring the beautiful backdrops behind her everywhere she went. “Were you…never happy?”
“On my own, I was happy. But I never felt really peaceful, if that makes sense. And as soon as I tried dating again, it was awful.” Her fingers curled, dug into his chest. “Trying to replace you. Every time it felt like I was slowly sawing myself in half, and the only way to stop hurting was to end the relationship.”
“Kels.” He hid his face in her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“If it sucked like that for me… You’re really okay? Even after all this time?”
A fist of pain grabbed hold of his chest. Tell her everything. That’s what he wanted. As difficult as it would be, he wanted to anyway. But the fading—when he tried to talk about this one thing, he felt as if he would scream. As if his heart would beat harder and faster, harder and faster, until it exploded.
The truth was, he could endure anything with her close again. Even fading. Even if he never got any better than he was today, even if he died in his forties, even if his sanity and his strength collapsed. With Kelsey near, he could take it. So he could say this without lying. He’d never lie to his Kelsey.
“I’m okay,” he said.
Eighteen hours after Trevor called her his mate, Kelsey was driving Maggie home from the surgery center. Her aunt sat in the passenger seat, quiet and maybe a little groggy. Surgery had been a success, the doctor said. Nothing unexpected—a two-hour surgery, five hours in recovery, and Maggie had come out of the anesthesia easily. All in all, a simple case.
Now for recovery.
“Doing okay?” Kelsey said.
“How about this—I’ll let you know if I’m not, so you can stop asking.”
She chuckled, one thing she hadn’t anticipated doing in the hours after surgery. Maybe it was relief that the operation was in the past, that Maggie sat beside her, not well yet but one step closer to it. Maybe it was Maggie’s indefatigable presence rubbing off on her.
At home they shuffled from car to porch, Maggie supported on one side by her new cane. Kelsey walked beside her on the other side, ready to step in if Maggie wobbled. The sturdy wood ramp was a blessing.
“Trevor made this,” Kelsey realized aloud.
Maggie nodded, then tapped her cane on the ramp with a thud. “This thing is temporary.”
“The ramp or the cane?”
“Both, but I mean the cane.”
“You did mention that, yeah.”
“Did I?”
“When I put it in the car.”
Maggie stopped still to stare at her. “I don’t remember going to the car. I just remember waiting for the anesthesia to kick in, and then…then you were driving me home.”
“That’s normal, remember?”
Maggie’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, I guess so. Huh, I might not remember this either then.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll be okay if you don’t.”
The distance from front door to recliner left Maggie breathing hard. Kelsey braced her feet for Maggie’s slight weight and helped her lower herself, then flipped the side lever to raise the foot rest.
