I stop walking, and she takes another step before realizing I’m not beside her anymore.
“Tank?”
I reach out and gently pull her against my body, wrapping my arms around her, probably too tightly, before pulling back slightly.
“Look at me,” I say quietly.
She does.
Those blue eyes still carry shadows from everything she’s been through…plus everythingIput her through.
“I didn’t get sick of you,” I tell her. “I was a coward.”
Her lips part slightly.
“There’s a difference,” I continue. “One means I stopped loving you.”
My hand cups her jaw softly.
“The other means I loved you so damn much it scared the hell out of me.”
Her breath catches.
“I’m not scared anymore,” I whisper.
My thumb brushes away the tear forming in the corner of her eye.
“So stop asking if I’m sure about you moving in with me.”
She sniffles softly.
“Why?”
I lean down until my forehead rests against hers.
“Because, Abigail…”
My voice lowers.
“You’re not moving in.”
Confusion flickers across her face.
“You’re coming home.”
She smiles, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
Nothing in this world is more beautiful than the pure joy on my woman’s face when she realizes just how loved she is.
My mind throws memories at me from the past few years. Moments when I thought she looked happy. Moments when that same smile lit up her face.
But back then, her eyes never matched it.
Now?
Her eyes are bright. Clear. Locked right onto mine like they’ve finally found what they’ve been searching for.
“Home,” she whispers.
