Looking for injuries.
Looking for blood.
Looking for proof that I paid the same price she did.
But she won’t find any.
Because I was safe.
While she wasn’t.
When she doesn’t find anything wrong, her shoulders sink, and she lowers her head against the pillow.
“It’s okay,” she whispers hoarsely. “I understand.”
She understands what?
“You changed your mind about us,” she says quietly. “I was shot, and now you’re back to the wholemy life is too dangerous for someone as precious as youthing.”
“You’re not wrong,” I admit.
Her entire body deflates, and guilt punches straight through my chest.
“But at the same time,” I continue quickly, my voice rough, “you’re fucking wrong.”
Her eyes lift back to mine.
“My lifeistoo dangerous for someone as precious as you,” I say honestly. “But there’s no way in hell I’m giving you up.”
I drag a hand through my hair.
“I’m just… fucking furious,” I admit. “You were bleeding out while I was three thousand miles away playing mob games in New York.”
Her expression softens.
“Then why are you still standing by the door?” she asks quietly.
She watches me like the answer matters more than anything else in the room.
“Why haven’t you come to me?”
Because I’m not okay.
One wrong step and it feels like the entire foundation beneath our feet will crumble, and I’ll lose her forever. I know it doesn’t make sense, but my head is a damn warzone right now.
“Please,” she whispers. “Come to me. You promised.”
I did.
I promised I’d come back to her.
But I was too… fucking… late.
“I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe,” I say roughly, still rooted to the spot. “You’ve been through so much hell, and all you wanted was to be next to me and feel safe. But I failed you. Again and again.”
My throat tightens.
“How can you ever forgive me for everything I’ve done?”
