Page 243 of Toxic Kiss

“I still miss him so much,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “Me too.”

Her thumb brushes over my knuckles, and that small touch already has me in my feels. For years, I’ve thought grief fades, time makes it quieter, and it becomes easier to manage. But it doesn’t. Grief clings to you without asking for permission.

I exhale slowly and step closer.

“Hey, man,” I say, staring at his name. “I know I haven’t been here much…or ever, and I’m sorry. You know me and emotions. Coming here…it fucking hurts. But…I need you for this.”

Haven turns her head and looks at me. I know she’s probably confused, but I can’t face her while I get this out. If I do, I’ll lose my nerve, and Cyrus Vale does not lose his nerve.

“You know better than anyone that I thought love was something that can be easily ruined if you touch it wrong,” I say, my voice dropping. “Turns out I was right.” Haven’s fingers tighten around mine. “But I’ve also learned something else. Some love survives being dragged through hell. It crawls out of that fiery pit, bloody and furious, and stronger for it.”

Haven’s bright green eyes draw me in and hold me tight when I finally get the courage to look at her. God help me, this woman. This impossible, stubborn, beautiful woman who has survived me and somehow decided I’m still worth loving.

“Haven,” I say, and my voice breaks on her name.

She shakes her head once, already aware that something big is coming.

“Cy…what’s going on? Are you okay? You look pale.”

I smirk and run my lip through my teeth.

“I’m fine, just…let me get this out before I make a mess of it.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach up to catch it with my thumb. I hold it up so the little bit of wet catches the light.

“I used to want your tears because I was cruel enough to think they proved I mattered. I wanted them because I hated that your smile made me feel something other than anger. I wanted them because in your pain, I found peace. I wasn’t alone with my dark thoughts.”

Haven’s lips part, and I swallow hard.

“Now I hate every single one I caused.” I put my thumb in my mouth and suck the droplet off. “I hate how I hurt you, and no amount of time will ever erase that regret. But I never want to forget. It is only in remembering that I realize how blessed I am to have you standing here by my side. Because let’s face it. I don’t deserve it.”

More tears fall, but she bites her lip and keeps quiet. My brave and beautiful Haven. My butterfly with scarred wings and fire in her veins.

I take her hand and press it against my chest, right over my heart.

“Feel that?”

She nods.

“That’s yours. Always was. Even when I was too stupid, too angry, and too broken to understand what my feelings meant.”

I slowly lower the zipper of my hoodie until that part of my chest is exposed.

Haven’s breath catches, and her hands fly to her mouth. There, inked over my heart, still dark and new, is a butterfly with her name scripted elegantly below. It’s not hidden or subtle. It’s not something I can deny when I wake up one day and decide vulnerability feels too much like weakness, and I need a kick in the ass. It’s permanent, just like her.

“Cyrus…it’s exquisite.”

“I wanted you where you’ve always been. Under my skin. Over my heart. Somewhere, no one can take you from me.”

My voice is rough, and each word is harder to say without choking on the dryness in my throat.

Haven suddenly bursts into full tears. I almost laugh because, of course, I’m the bastard proposing in a cemetery and making her cry.

“I know this is twisted,” I say, brushing her tears away. “I know normal men do this with candles, champagne, and some restaurant they rent out. But we’ve never been normal.”

I slowly drop to one knee in front of Patrick’s grave and reach into my coat pocket to pull out the velvet box. Haven’s eyes flick to it, then back to me.