I want to give him everything without fear of breaking.
But can I? Instead of answering my own question, a question escapes before I can stop it, “Why?” And I hate how small I sound, how vulnerable.
His hand moves to my jaw, tilting my face toward him, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Because it’s you,” he says, his gaze unwavering, his voice weighted with something that feels like truth. “No one’s ever felt like you. No one’s ever been like you. No one’s ever stayed with me, in my mind, like you do.”
His words undo me, unraveling the last threads of my defenses. I close my eyes, letting them settle into the cracks of my heart, where doubt usually lives.
“Ledger . . .” I whisper, his name breaking on my lips like a prayer, a plea, a surrender. I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
More of him?
Less of this overwhelming, all-consuming connection?
Or maybe just the courage to believe it’s real.
To believe that something this good, this overwhelming, can be mine without slipping away. That I won’t lose it the moment I start to hold on.
The thought tugs at something deep inside me, a fragile thread of hope tangled with fear. But his touch grounds me—not just the feel of his hands, but him. The way he sees me, like I’m not temporary. Like I’m worth staying for.
He presses his forehead to mine, his breath brushing against my lips, warm and uneven, as his hand cradles the back of my neck. “Whatever this is,” he murmurs, his voice low but certain, every word sinking into me, “it’s not nothing. It’s not just anything. It’s us. And it’s everything.”
His words hit me like the answer to a question I didn’t even know I was asking, the kind of truth that doesn’t leave room for doubt. It’s too soon, too much, and yet it feels inevitable.
Because life isn’t guaranteed. We could’ve died in that explosion. We could’ve been reduced to memories and ashes. And if this is all we have—this fragile, fleeting moment—then maybe it’s enough.
Maybe we’re meant to live more, to live truthfully. No walls. No fear. No hesitation.
The words I can’t say linger in my mind, pressing against the edges of my resolve. I want more of this, more of him. I want to unravel whatever this is between us, no matter how messy or terrifying it gets.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I stop overthinking. I stop second-guessing. I just let myself feel.
His lips find mine again, soft yet insistent, lingering like a vow whispered against my soul. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise—a silent agreement that we’ll figure this out.
Together.
An Us.
Right now, in this moment, he isn’t justeverything. He’smine.
But can something this intense, this overwhelming, really last?
Can something that feels so momentary become permanent?
Can it become a forever?
Our Forever?
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Galeana
Seattle has beena blur of moments, vivid and fleeting, each one pulling me closer to something that feels almost real.
Almost.
In the days since the explosion, Ledger has been determined to give us something close to normal. We’ve walked along the waterfront at Pike Place Market, eaten fresh oysters at Elliott’s, and explored the Chihuly Garden and Glass exhibit, where I stood mesmerized by the way light twisted through the delicate sculptures. He took me to Kerry Park, insisting the view of the city’s skyline would take my breath away—and it did, though not nearly as much as watching him grin when I admitted he was right.
“It’s not much,” he’d said more than once, his voice tinged with a mix of guilt and determination. “But we’ll plan the best trip soon. The ultimate honeymoon. I’ll make this up to you, Gale. I promise.”
