Page 150 of Sparks Fly

I looked away. “Yeah.”

The word came out smaller than I intended.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me, please.”

I did.

“I love you, Sawyer.”

The words stole my breath. We hadn’t talked about it since the hospital, and part of me had started to wonder if she regretted saying it.

“I want to take care of you, baby,” she continued. “I know you think you can do everything yourself, but you don’t have to. Not with me.”

My throat tightened. “So, you don’t regret it?”

Her brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Saying you love me.”

Her whole expression softened. “Sawyer, no. God, no. Why would I?”

“You just… we haven’t talked about any of it. I thought maybe you only said it because you were scared. That maybe you still hadn’t changed your mind about keeping us separate.”

Addison shook her head and kissed me softly. Every time she touched me now, she did it like she was afraid I might break beneath her hands.

“Sawyer, baby, I didn’t say it because you were in an accident. Hearing you had crashed and were going into surgery scared the fuck out of me. I was terrified you weren’t going to be okay.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. I reached up and wiped them away with my thumb.

“Before I came to the hospital, I drove straight to my parents’ house and told them I was in love with you. I told them I didn’t care what they thought, that I was happy and I wasn’t going to live for them anymore, I was going to live for me.”

I had no idea. “You did?”

“I did.” She nodded. “I didn’t even let them respond. I told them, left, and came straight to you.”

She leaned closer, her hands still holding my face.

“And I don’t regret any of it. No more hiding. No more holding back. You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it.” Her voice cracked. “I love you so much, Sawyer.”

“I love you too.” The words came out quietly, but they felt bigger than anything I had ever said.

Addison smiled through her tears and pressed her forehead to mine.

“Good,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes and breathed her in. “I’m still going to hate needing help,” I warned.

“I know.”

“And I’m probably going to argue with you.”

“I know that too.” She laughed.

“But I’ll try.”

She kissed me gently. “That’s all I’m asking.”

A little while later, she made me something small to eat so I could take my medication, then helped me into bed and arranged the pillows around my shoulder until I was finally comfortable.