Troy hovers a few feet away, looking like he doesn’t know where to stand or what to do with his hands. He watches me carefully, his teeth catching the ring in his lip. After a moment, he moves closer and lowers himself onto the other cushion.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know,” I say after a moment, staring at the floor. “You can go home.”
Troy’s head tilts slightly. “Do youwantme to go?”
I frown immediately. “No. Of course not.”
He waits, brows raised expectantly.
I sigh and rub my face with my free hand. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. You don’t owe me anything, Troy.”
His expression softens. “Of course I do.”
“No,” I insist, shaking my head, “you don’t.”
His hand rests on my thigh, squeezing gently. “I love you, and this is what you do for people you love. In sickness and health and all that shit.”
Everything inside me freezes.
My brain stutters.
“Wait,” I say slowly. “You… what?”
Troy’s brows knit together. “I said I love—”
“No, I heard that part,” I cut in, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain flashes through my ribs, but I barely register it. “You love me?”
Now it’s Troy’s turn to look confused. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies my face.
“Oh… fuck,” he says slowly. Realization—and a hint of horror—hardens his expression. “You don’t remember.”
I don’t say anything, too stunned to find words.
Troy groans under his breath and drags both hands down his face before dropping his elbows onto his knees. “Of course you don’t remember,” he mutters. “I’m an idiot.”
“What don’t I remember?” I ask quietly.
He rubs the back of his neck, grimacing. “You were bleeding all over Luke’s truck. Half-conscious. I was holding you, and you…” He exhales through his nose. “You told me you loved me. I said it back.”
The room suddenly feels very small. I stare at him.
He keeps talking before I can respond.
“I mean, you were hurt,” he rushes on, words tumbling over each other. “You probably didn’t even know what you were saying. People say weird shit when they’re in shock, right? So you don’t have to feel obligated to say it back now or anything. I know my intensity can be a little—”
“Troy.”
“—a lot, actually, and I’ve been told I fall too hard, too fast, and—”
“Troy.”
“—I just don’t want you to feel pressured becausethat’s not what I—”
I lean forward and kiss him, finally shutting him up.
For a second he goes completely still beneath me, like his brain can’t process what’s happening. Then he exhales softly against my lips, his hand sliding up to card gently through my hair. The tension drains from his body as he melts into the kiss, his shoulders sagging with relief.
When I pull back, his eyes are wide.
