“As long as you’re not about to break up with me,” he mumbled against my finger, staring down at me with worry in his eyes.
“Dumb thing to say. I love you, and breaking up is never happening again. I’m not going to say goodbye. We’re both in a different place. So much has changed and then… nothing at all.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m telling you that I’m staying. I’m moving back because I can’t spend another day without you. If you’ll have me, obviously. But I kind of think you will.”
He blinked slowly.
“Are you okay, Cole?”
“Marry me.”
I reared back into the mattress and pushed his chest. “I’m sorry?”
He chuckled, sitting up. “I saidmarry me.”
“Yeah, I mean, I heard… but we’ve only been back together for a few weeks.”
“No, baby, it’s beenforever. I want to be with you, tied to you, in every way possible. I want you to have my name and wake up every morning in our house. Shit, I don’t have a ring, but I’ll get you one. Tomorrow morning. Whichever one you want… or I’ll surprise you. I know what—”
“Yes,” I said, cutting off his rambling that I was secretly loving, but I just needed to be engaged already. “And you can—”
This time it was him who cut me off, and he did it with a long kiss that became stitched into my soul.
Epilogue
Oakley
ONE YEAR LATER
Selling my story was never part of my plan. In fact, it still made me feel a bit sick, but I’d done it for a good reason. Averygood reason.
During therapy right here in England, I found out how many abused and deprived children there were in areas surrounding our town. Children who had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one to talk to. They were suffering in silence, not having a safe place to go.
And, God, did I understand how that felt.
So, when Marcus also told me the gym was closing and asked if I wanted to do something together, I knewwhat I had to do.
I stepped out of the shower after the interview, washing off the last of the shame away. I’d condemned people for selling stories before, yet here I was doing the same thing.
The centre was coming along. We’d secured funding from the council and bank loans to open it up, but it wasn’t going to be enough, and I didn’t want Cole or my mum to put up any of their money.
This was something I wanted to do alone… or with my business partner. A brand-new gym that we’d renovated ourselves. We were turning a derelict building into hope for so many young people.
There was still white paint under my nails from our late-night decorating session.
Marcus and I would teach gymnastics as well as running a youth club. We had a wonderful Cognitive Behaviour Therapist, specialising in Child Play Therapy, volunteering one afternoon a week in case anyone wanted to talk.
Our plan was to hire someone eventually, but we had to start small. The building was bigger, and we had the scope to take on a lot of new gymnasts. We could finally accept almost everyone on the long waiting list.
One day we would earn enough to run the centre in a way that could help any child in need.
I would make it happen.
Wrapping a towel around me, I pressed my hand to my queasy stomach and frowned. That was happening a lot lately.
Wait a minute…
