He comes in and hands me the flowers. “Lou said these are your favorites. I hope she’s right since I keep getting them for you.”
“She’s right,” I confirm. Longing, bright and sharp, blazes through me, like a star streaking across a sky that has been dark for far too long.
“You’ve been baking,” he says. “What happened?”
I don’t know if I should laugh or cry that he knows me so well. “Why are you here?” The question is tremulous, faltering under the weight of sudden hope.
His fingers tighten on the envelope. “Are you still mad at me?” he returns rather than answering.
“I’m not—I was nevermad. I’m ...” A sob rises, and I clench my teeth to trap it. I donotwant to cry again. That’s all I do these days. Cry and bake. Bake and cry. “Why are you here?” This time it’s a hoarse plea.
Hunter holds up the letter with my familiar handwriting on the front. “I read it. But I didn’t need to.” He holds my gaze, and I shiver, somehow feeling laid bare. “Iknowyou, Liv. I’ve watched you wrestle with the guilt of being alive because someone else isn’t. I didn’t need to read this to understand that. You’ve pushed me away because you—incorrectly, by the way—think you’re saving me.”
I clutch the flowers he gave me, my heart in my throat.
“I also knew you were hiding a little hellcat inside you, but I didn’t expect your claws to come out likethis.” His mouth twitches at the corners.
“What?”
“I heard about what you said to my mom today. And I ...” He pauses, clears his throat. “After Lou called me and told me what you said to her ... I had to see you. I had to thank you.”
I wince. “I wasn’t very nice.”
“So I heard.” He smiles, but it fades as he takes a hesitant step forward. “I also came because I have to know the truth: Did you mean what you said to her?”
I swallow past the pounding of my heart and nod.
“Allof it?”
“All of it,” I say thickly. Fear beats in time with the love I have for him. The love I announced to his mom.He’s here. He came to me. Please let him forgive me. Please let him want me.
He lifts one hand to brush his knuckles across my cheek, then his hand opens to cup my face. “I don’t know if I can ever completely forgive myself for Lyla’s death. And I’ll always hate that she’s gone. But I willforeverbe grateful that because of her, you’re still here. She couldn’t have given her heart to a better person.”
The tears in my eyes spill out onto my cheeks.
Hunter tenderly wipes the wetness away, his gaze gentle on mine. “Please, don’t push me away. Because I love you, Olivia Karlsson. I love you, and I don’t want to spend a day of my life without you ever again.”
My heart—my and Lyla’s—feels like it could explode. “I love you, too, Hunter Barrett. And I’m done pushing you away.”
Hunter slides his other arm around my waist and then lowers his head, tenderly pressing his lips to mine. His kiss is so gentle and soft it makes me ache. I’ve never experienced anything like it. This kiss is forgiveness. It’s love. It’s cominghome.
It’s choosing us.
When we break apart, Hunter rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, Liv,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “But I’m still scared. Scared of falling.”
“Me too,” I whisper. “But life without you scares me even more. We’ll catch each other, right?”
“Always,” he vows.
“Besides, some guy told me once that none of us have any guarantees in this life. Maybe we choose to be grateful for every day we get together and go from there.”
“Some guy? Now I’msome guy?”
I laugh and hug him tighter, hardly able to believe he’s here—that helovesme. That I’m allowed to feel happiness like this. Joy as exquisite as my pain was excruciating.
Slowly, our laughter fades, and I inhale deeply, breathing in his scent as his arms encircle me in the comfort of his strength.
I don’t know how long we stay like that before Hunter lifts his head, eyes locking on mine. “Can I listen to it?” he asks softly. “To your heart?”
