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“You love me?” I know I sound incredulous, and Bailey’s face dims slightly—not what I wanted. At all.
“I know it’s soon, and we still barely know each other but?—”
“I wasn’t aware love had a strict timeline,” I say. “Or that you had to exchange social security numbers or something before you could say it. Because I don’t know everything about you, and I don’t know your social security number, but I love you, Bailey Hopkins.”
Her grin stretches wide, and her fingers press harder on my head, making me moan as my eyes flutter and try to shut. But I don’t allow them too. I can’t stop looking at Bailey. Wholovesme.
“You don’t know my last name, either,” she says. “Because I haven’t changed it yet. It’s still McKinney.”
I frown. “Why haven’t you changed it?”
“There hasn’t been time, hockey player. But I have the paperwork and plan to do so. Until then, just so people are sure …”
She spins, moving her hair out of the way. I didn’t even notice she’s wearing a jersey, but she is. And it’s mine. I trace the letters of my name across her shoulders.
“I love you, Bailey not-yet Hopkins,” I tell her. “And it may be soon, but I’ve known for longer.”
Bailey turns and puts her hands right back in my hair. This time, when my eyelids flutter, I allow them to close. “How long, hockey player?”
“At least a week.”
“That’s like … a third of our relationship,” she says with a giggle.
“Depends when you start counting. I mean, if you consider when I first came into the shelter?—”
“You didnothave feelings for me then.”
I open my eyes and, despite the ache it causes, I lift my hand to take Bailey’s, then press a kiss to each of her fingertips. “But I loved coming to the shelter for more than the dogs. I made it a personal challenge to see if I could get you to talk. And I loved making you blush. Just like now.”
I let go of her hand to trace over her pink cheeks, dipping to her mouth, where I drag a fingertip over her lower lip.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” I say. “I wasn’t sure how you felt, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured or stuck. I wanted to win you over without overwhelming you.”
“Can we talk about that?” Bailey asks. “And then, I want to do some not-talking, and then I think you need to rest.”
“Okay,” I say agreeably, mostly because I like the idea of not talking very much. And I’m also exhausted.
“You do not overwhelm me, Eli. You aren’t too much for me. The last thing I want is for you to hold back.”
“Good.” A tightness I wasn’t even aware of loosens in my chest, and I slide my hand around to cup the back of Bailey’s head.
And then I kiss her, not holding back.
Not holding back the depth of emotion I feel for her or the hopes I have for us, not holding back because of fear or worry or uncertainty.
It’s only the pain in my head that forces a groan out of me—not a happy kind—and has me flopping back against the pillows.
“Sorry,” I say, a little out of breath.
Bailey smooths her finger across my forehead, then goes back to my hair as I let my eyes close again. “Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Rest. You’ll need it. Because”—she leans closer and brushes her lips over mine—“when you’re recovered, I don’t plan to hold back with you either.”
It’s with this promise and the knowledge that Bailey is fully, finally, actually mine, that I drift into sleep and happy dreams.
EPILOGUE
Bailey
I sink downon my bed, holding the envelope in my hands, staring at the return address until the words blur and swim into squiggly lines. It’s from the University of Tennessee Knoxville—the only vet school that wouldn’t require relocation. And like trying to watch an acceptance-letter pot come to a boil, this has been the last to arrive.
