Her words sting because she’s right. Our marriage was conditional, a solution to a problem, but she's also wrong, and she has to know that.
"Not for me, it wasn't." My voice is raw. "And you know that." I shift closer, still kneeling in the mud until there's barely any space between us. "Maybe you don't want to hear it because you're scared. Scared that someone could love you so much they'd choose this journey with you rather than without. But I'm not scared of that."
Her breath hitches.
"I don't regret one second. Not one. And the only thing that scares me is thinking you won't let me stay." I bring our joined hands to my chest, pressing them against my heart so she can feel how hard it's beating. "Don't push me away, sweetheart."
The words catch in my throat, and suddenly, everything I've been holding back for months—years, even comes pouring out.
"I feel like I'm always chasing you. Like I never actually have you."
She flinches like I've struck her, and immediately, her other hand comes up to grip my arm. "You've always had me." Her voice breaks. "I've just done a terrible job of showing you."
Rain drips down her pretty face, mixing with fresh tears. "I know I'm hard to love, Trigger Hale. But you are too."
"How so?" My eyes narrow as I wipe away a tear. "I don't recall running from you."
"No." She lets out a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "No, you don't run. You never run. That's just it. I can't compete with the way you love me. The way you've always loved me."
"Compete?" I repeat the word I don't understand. This isn't a competition.
"With the version of me you've built up in your head since we were kids. The girl you've been in love with your whole life." She pulls in a shaky breath, and I can see the effort it takes her to keep going. "You love me like I'm something precious. Something worth protecting. Worth saving. And I'm terrified…" Her voice trails off before she finds her strength again. "I'm terrified that when you finally see me clearly, when you see all the broken, scared, selfish parts I can't seem to fix, you'll realize I'm not her. I'm not the girl you've been waiting for."
"Asha—"
"What if I'm not enough?" she whispers. "What if loving me becomes a burden instead of a choice?"
For a long moment, I just stare at her, at this woman kneeling in the mud with mascara running down her cheeks, her white dress clinging to her frame, and fear written all over her face. And I realize she actually believes what she's saying. Sheactually thinks there's a version of her in my head that's better than the real thing.
"You want to know what I see when I look at you?" I ask quietly. She hesitates then nods. "I see someone who feels everything so deeply it scares her, so she runs." I tighten my grip on her hands. "And yeah, I see someone who's hard to love. Not because you're broken or selfish, but because loving you means understanding that sometimes you need to run. And I have to let you. I have to trust you'll come back."
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
"You think I've built you up in my head? That I'm in love with some perfect version of you?" I let out a breath. "Asha, I know exactly who you are. I know you pick fights when you're scared and shut down when you should open up. I know you'd rather burn the whole world down than admit you're hurting."
A tear slides down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb.
"And I love you anyway. Not despite those things, just...anyway. That's not a competition, sweetheart. It's just love."
"But what if I keep running?" Her voice softens with uncertainty. "What if I can't stop?"
"Then I'll keep coming after you." I pull her closer until our foreheads touch. "Every single time, until Ihave your heart again."
"I love you," she breathes. "God, I've never loved anything or anyone the way that I love you, and it terrifies me."
"Then let it terrify us together."
I watch the last of her resistance crumble, and then she's closing the distance between us. Our lips meet, and the world stops. It's desperate and salty with rain and tears, and nothing about it is gentle. It's a week of hell collapsing into this single point of contact. It's need and fear and grief and relief, all of it pouring out of us in a way words never could. Her hands fist inmy wet shirt, pulling me closer, like she's trying to crawl inside my chest and make a home there. And I let her. God, I let her.
I kiss her like I'm trying to breathe life back into both of us. Like she's the only thing tethering me to this earth. Like if I let go for even a second, I'll lose her again, and I can't. Tears sting my eyes, and when I feel her chest shake against mine, I know she’s crying too. We’re a sobbing mess, holding on like we're the only two people left in the world who understand what it means to almost lose everything.
When she gasps against my mouth, I pull her impossibly closer, not ready to let her go. Our foreheads press together, lips still touching, breathing each other's air because separating even an inch feels like too much.
"Don't leave me again," I whisper against her mouth, the words more plea than demand.
"Never," she promises and kisses me again to seal it.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, she whispers, "Take me home."
