“What else do you need, Lil Bit?”
“I need you to show me.”
So I do.
I kiss her.
Slow.Deep.
Like a man giving back the breath he almost lost.
She makes a sound, small and broken, and presses closer.The world narrows to the feel of her heartbeat against mine.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” I whisper and scoop her up before she can say a word.
She gasps, her fingers gripping my shoulders, and I carry her straight out of the bathroom, past the hall, into the bedroom that already smells like her—like soap and lavender and something I can’t live without.
I skip the towels.We’ll dry.
As far gone for her as I am, I don’t think I could spare the time.
I set her down on the bed, cherishing her with my eyes.Then, I brush a strand of hair from her cheek, and for a second, I just look at her—really look.
She’s here.Alive.Strong.Mine.
“Bit,” I start, my voice rough, “I’ve spent years fighting for a country, for men who didn’t always come home, for things I barely believed in anymore.But you,” I curse under my breath, searching for the right words, and I swallow hard.“You’re the first thing I’ve ever wanted to fight for just because I can’t imagine not coming home to you.”
Her eyes widen, her lips parting in a soft breath.
“I know everyone thinks it’s too soon.Hell, maybe it is.But I don’t care.I told you before I left for Arizona I had something to ask you when I got back, remember?”
She nods, tears welling in her pretty brown eyes.
“Don’t cry yet, it might not be that bad,” I tease and she laughs.
“Sawyer—”
“Just wait,” I beg.
I reach into the drawer by the bed where I’d hidden it weeks ago, a simple ring—nothing fancy, just silver, sturdy, something real.
I hold it out between us, the metal glinting faintly in the lamplight.
“I had this made for you before I left,” I admit.“Didn’t know when or how I’d give it to you.But I was always going to.And I guess now will do.”
She covers her mouth, tears spilling now.
“I’m not promising perfect,” I tell her, my throat tight.“I’m promising honest.Safe.Home.You and me, Lil Bit.That’s it.You want that?”
Her hand trembles when she reaches for mine, her voice thick with tears.
“I do,” she whispers.
“Yeah?You’ll marry me.”
It’s part question, part statement.Heavy-handed?Maybe.
But she was always going to be mine.I think we both know that.
