Without even thinking, I spun on my heel and sprinted for the front door, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to break free. My bare feet slapped against the hardwood as I tore through the house, Sondra calling my name behind me.
I didn’t stop, though.
I burst through the screen door just as he was swinging his leg over his bike.
Thank the gods! He was here and he was in one piece.
Relief hit me like a sledgehammer, threatening to take my legs out.
“Weston,” I breathed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I took in every inch of him, checking for damage. That’s when I noticed he was holding his left shoulder, and there was a dark stain on his shirt that had to be blood.
Shit. He was hurt!
“Weston!” I cried out, flying down the porch steps.
His head snapped up at the sound of my voice, his eyes going wide as I launched myself at him.
He grunted at the impact as I threw my arms around his neck, forgetting all about his injury because I needed to feel him.
“I thought something awful happened to you,” I sobbed against his throat, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and motor oil.
His good arm came around me, pulling me tight against his chest. “I’m fine, baby,” he murmured into my hair, his voice rough. “It’s just a flesh wound. It barely grazed my shoulder.”
I held him tighter, my fingers fisting the hair at his nape. “Don’t do that to me again! I thought I lost you!”
The words were out before I could stop them, but I didn’t care. I thought I lost him again, this time for good. Losing him the first time broke me, but if something happened to him— I squeezed him tighter. They’d have to put me in the ground with him. I couldn’t live in a world where he didn’t exist.
He pressed his lips against the top of my head, and something inside my chest cracked wide open.
Lifting my head, I let my eyes rake over every inch of his beautiful face. “I thought—” I croaked, shaking my head as another wave of tears fell.
His eyes held mine.
“I’m okay,” he promised, his eyes dropping to my mouth.
Suddenly the air crackled between us.
And then, like gravity was pulling us back where we belonged, he leaned down and kissed me.
His lips were just as soft as I remembered, just as perfect. The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like he was afraid I might pull away.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
His tongue glided over mine and I whimpered, sliding my hands up to frame his face.
The porch light above us started flickering.
We both pulled back and started laughing at the same time, breathless and a little stunned. “Think he’ll come out with his shotgun?”
My lips twitched. “I’m all grown up now, Weston.”
His eyes warmed. “You are.”
Leaning forward, I pressed another kiss against his lips. I didn’t know what any of this meant, but I was afraid at any second he would change his mind and rip it all away again.
“I need to get this stitched up, baby,” he said softly, wincing as he moved his shoulder.
Shit! I’d been so in my head that he was in one piece that I’d completely forgotten he was hurt.
