“Sometimes.”
“I don’t remember the accident, but I remember the candy heart. It said ‘Kiss Me.’ So I did. I leaned over the console and kissed his cheek. I remember sitting back in my seat and adjusting the shoulder strap across my chest, and I remember him giving me the most adoring sideways glance. And that’s it. That’s all I remember until I woke from a coma three months later without Ben… without my leg… and without Jessica.”
Cage’s body tensed against mine. I kept going, like the proverbial ripping off a Band-Aid.
“Jessica’s parents were murdered, and then she and her brother committed suicide, or at least that’s what we believed. They received new identities and moved to Omaha while my family grieved for my leg, the uncertainty of my awaking from the coma, and my brother who was left so completely devastated by everything.
“Jessica is the strongest person I have ever known. I have her at rock star status, and I have no doubt that your dad loved her because she’s impossible not to love. And she never told me what she said to you, but I know her, and her capacity to love is just enormous and her emotions are real, true, and completely unapologetic. But here’s the thing, my brother loved her, my whole family loved her, and when he saw her—alive—it nearly killed him. If your dad wouldn’t have died, I don’t know what she would have done, who she would have chosen, but it doesn’t matter anymore. And I’m sorry—I am so very sorry that it doesn’t.”
I lied. I lied to spare the last shred of his feelings. Jessica would have chosen Luke, I’d have bet my life on it.
“When my dad left to be with her—to die with her—I hated her for taking him. I hated him for choosing her. But…” He pressed his lips to my head.
“But?”
“But now I have this person in my life, and she’s melted butter and warm syrup on hot waffles, a blues song on the radio at sunset with a cold beer in hand, and the smile on my face when I’m all alone. And if someone asked me to choose a lasting image to take with me before I died… I’d pick her face.”
I was “her.” I was “she.” The words that left his lips would never really sink into my full conscience. The accident took so much more than my leg and yet Cage gave it all back to me tenfold. He didn’t complete me with a part of himself; he just put me back together with all my own pieces. I shattered and he crawled around on the floor handing me my confidence, my hope, my dreams, my voice, my future. He mended me then kissed my scars and looked at me like I was nothing short of a timeless masterpiece.
Closing my eyes, I smiled. “I love our story. I love it so much because in every chapter you make me fall in love with you all over again. Let’s neverbein love. Let’sfallevery day without ever touching the ground.”
“Fuck gravity.” He rested his cheek on my head.
I chuckled. “Exactly, fuck gravity.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
DADDY’S GOT A GUN
CAGE
“They’re goingto love you. More so when they recognize you. My parents follow football.” Lake grimaced as she put pressure on the ‘loaner’ leg from Thaddeus.
She had three other legs packed but none that wouldn’t ‘kill’ to wear them with the burns on her leg. Her face didn’t lead me to believe the one from Thad was any better.
“Why don’t you forego the leg and just let me carry you?”
“Yeah, not happening.”
I retrieved our bags from the back of the rental car.
“My mom doesn’t know about my beach mishap, and I’d rather not tell her. She worries enough as is.”
“Sure. I get it. Because it’s going to be real easy to hide when your entire front side looks like you lost a battle with a dragon.”
“You’ve been putting aloe vera on me. I think it’s better.”
“I’m sure the look on your mom’s face will confirm it one way or another. And can I ask why you didn’t tell your parents who I am?”
She stopped at the stairs, looking at them like a mountain. I set the bags down and scooped her up in my arms.
“I had it.”
“Good to hear. In the meantime, I’ve got you.”
“Stop,” she whispered when we reached the door.
I didn’t set her down because there really wasn’t anything I liked more than having her in my arms.
