Page 145 of Sparks Fly

I pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then her forehead. Then the corner of her mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. “You’re okay.”

Her eyes opened fully and found mine. “Hey,” she rasped. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Don’t say that.”

Tears spilled down my face as I brushed my thumb along her cheek. “I love you,” I said, the words tumbling out without hesitation. “God, I love you so much.”

Sawyer blinked slowly. “You—what?” she asked weakly.

“I told my parents,” I said breathlessly. “Everything. I don’t care anymore. I want you at the wedding with me. I want everyone to know your it for me.”

Her tired eyes sharpened just slightly. “Wait,” she said hoarsely. “Back up.” Her lips curved into a faint, crooked smile. “Did you just say you love me?”

I nodded, pressing my forehead gently to hers. “Yes,” I whispered. “I love you.”

She exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she said softly. “Good. Because I was starting to think I was the only idiot falling this hard.”

I laughed through my tears. “Shut up,” I whispered. “And tell me you love me too.”

“I love you,” she said immediately.

Warmth settled between us. I kissed her again, carefully, my hand resting over her heart as it beat steadily beneath my palm.

Outside the room the world was still complicated and messy and full of expectations. But here, in that quiet hospital room, everything finally felt clear.

And for the first time since the phone rang, I could breathe.

* * *

41

Sawyer

I woke to dim light.

The digital clock on the wall glowed 3:08 a.m.

The air smelled faintly like antiseptic and plastic tubing. Somewhere to my left, a machine beeped steadily, rhythmic and irritating enough to drag me out of sleep whether I wanted it to or not.

For a few seconds everything was fuzzy.

Then pieces came back.

Addison beside me. Her fingers wrapped around mine. Her eyes red and terrified as she leaned close enough that I could feel her breath against my skin.

I love you.

The memory was soft around the edges, mixed with nurses moving around the bed and medication burning cold through my IV. Someone had said they were taking me to a room. Addison had promised she would be there when I woke up.

Then everything had gone dark again.

It felt like a dream.

My brain was still slow and thick, like it was trying to wade through fog. My body didn’t feel like mine. Something about the position of my arm felt wrong, stiff and heavy, and a dull ache threaded through my ribs and back like someone had rearranged the pieces while I wasn’t looking.

Then I tried to move.