“I know,” he said, almost as if he was convincing himself. His hand slid to the back of my neck, grounding me with his touch. “I just… need a second to catch up to it.”
I let out a soft breath, leaning into him. “I’m here,” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I.”
We stayed like that for a long minute. Just breathing. Just warmth. Just two clueless asses trying to learn each other again.
Then Adrian chuckled softly. “I think I pulled something.”
“Yeah,” I said, my lips brushing his throat. “My sanity.”
His laughter rumbled through me, and for a moment—just a moment—I felt whole.
He kissed the top of my head, his mouth brushing the hairline scar where glass split my scalp. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured. “One minute at a time.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. I hoped he didn’t feel it.
He definitely did.
His arm tightened. “I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
I believed him. Melted into him. Drifted in the safety of his arms, where the world finally felt quiet.
Where I felt wanted.
Where I felt… At home.
Adrian shifted, propping himself on one elbow beside me. His fingers skimmed down my torso, over the small scar from the chest tube. A reminder of the moment he thought he’d lost me. I felt the breath he let out before I heard it.
He placed a kiss on the puckered skin. It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t even tentative. It was reverent in a way that hit me deeper than it should have, as if he were grateful. Trying to erase the damage with his mouth.
He kissed the next section. And the next. The tiny circular scar at my throat from the trach. The long, ugly line down my thigh.
Careful little brushstrokes of warmth over pain.
Devotion over damage.
I exhaled shakily. “Adrian…”
He didn’t stop. If anything, he went slower. His breath puffed against my skin between kisses, warm and soft, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed.
“I hate that this happened to you,” he murmured between two kisses just under my ribs.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
His lips stilled on my skin. “I still hate it.”
My hand slid into his hair, combing gently through the dark strands.
“Adrian,” I whispered again, quieter this time. “Come here.”
He lifted his head, eyes warm and a little glassy, and crawled up to lie flush against me. His body fit against mine perfectly, like coming home after being lost for too long.
His cheek rested against mine.
“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, voice thick. “I didn’t know if I’d get to hear you be a smartass again.”
I huffed out a laugh that sounded embarrassingly close to a sob. “Still here.”
