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I shake my head, brows furrowed.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I tell her, reaching out to take her hand in mine. This time, her warm fingers squeeze back, and I feel it all the way in my heart.
“All of those things I said,” she cries quietly.
This beautiful woman of mine. Here she is, banged up beyond belief, and she’s worried about the fight we had the last time we spoke.
“Baby, it’s forgotten. The only thing I care about is you, and that you’re okay,” I tell her, dipping my forehead to hers and holding there, breathing her in.
“I was so scared,” she admits, her breath dancing against my lips.
An ache in my chest pangs over her admission. To think that this headstrong, beautiful, intelligent, spitfire of a woman was scared, because of something those mother fuckers did… it makes me see red.
“I know, baby. I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” I say, cupping the uninjured side of her face as she cries. “Let it out. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her sobs grow louder in the quiet little room, and I hold her closer, smoothing my knuckles down the side of her face, pressing my lips to her hair and letting her unload every emotion she’s held onto for the last two years. I’ll bear the weight of it all for the rest of my life, as long as she lets me.
I pull back enough to look into her eyes, swiping the tears away with the pads of my thumbs.
“I was so afraid that I’d lost you. When I got the phone call, all I could think about was what if I didn’t make it in time? What if I never got to see your beautiful face again? What if I never get drunk off those whiskey-colored eyes again?”
She squeezes her eyes shut as my words sink in. I don’t want to make her cry, but she needs to hear them. She needs to know what’s in my heart.
“I never want to feel those things again, baby. I want to wake up to you every day, see your smile, feel your touch. I want to play with you in the sun and curl up with you in the rain. I want to fight with you on your good days and remind you how strong you are on your bad.
“I want you to know that I’m going to be here for you every single day, no matter what the world throws our way, because I love you, and I don’t ever want to live a day on this earth if you aren’t here beside me.”
Her sobs come loud and hard, but she reaches for my shirt collar, tugging me closer to her, until there’s nothing between us but the sounds of our beating hearts.
“I love you, Bodhi, so much,” she shakes her head, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I thought I was going to die, and you’d never know that I’ve loved you all along.”
My chest swells with pride and love and joy. At any moment, my chest will break open and rays of golden light will shine through the cracks, washing everything around us in the love that I feel for her.
Unable to hold back, I slip my hand beneath her head and press my lips to hers. I don’t kiss her the way I want to — that will have to wait for her to heal a little more — but I kiss her in a way that conveys everything I’m feeling and more.
We stay like that — for five seconds or five minutes; I’m not sure.
When I finally pull back, allowing her a moment to catch her breath, I chuckle softly.
“What is it?”
“I was only thinking,” I tell her, watching her contently.
“Thinking what?” she asks.
“That crashing into you that night was the best thing to ever happen to me,” I say, and she chuckles, wincing mildly as she reaches for her bruised ribs.
“Oww, don’t make me laugh,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, kissing her on the forehead.
“My poor car,” she pouts, creasing her brow.
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling down at her.
“Is it bad?” she asks.
The image of her car, smashed and broken, sobers me, and I nod. “Yeah, baby, it’s pretty bad. Sander had it towed back to the impound lot.” I tell her.
