“I’ve got a lot of scars,” he says softly. “But none of them hurt anymore, not when you touch them like that.”
He helps me out of my jeans, as he steps out of his, kicking them aside until he’s as bare as I am.
As he presses his lips to my temple, he whispers into my hair, “I’ll love you quietly, even when you’re gone.”
Love?
That word doesn’t scare me because he said it.
I won’t say it back; I want to save it for when I finally leave Brian, when I can claim it without the weight of secrets pulling me down. But hearing it from Reed, like a promise he’s kept buried too long, wraps around my heart.
“Come here,” he murmurs.
He leads me into the ensuite bathroom, turning on the shower until steam curls out of the glass doors. He steps inside with me, pulling me under the spray.
Warm water hits us both, cascading over my back, shoulders, and hair.
It streams down his face, catching in his lashes, and runs in rivulets over the scars I just traced.
He turns me so my back faces his chest, his arms wrapping around me from behind as his chin rests on my shoulder.
His hands slide up my arms and down my sides, cradling my breasts once more.
“I’m going to miss the way your skin feels under my hands,” he whispers into my ear. “The way you shiver when I kiss the back of your neck. The little sigh you make when I hold you like this. I’m going to miss waking up to feel your heartbeat against my palm when I rest it right here—” His hand flattens over my chest, covering my heart. “—just to make sure you’re still real.”
A sob catches in my throat.
He turns me in his arms until I’m gazing up at him again.
His hands slide up to cradle my face, his thumbs stroking slowly along my cheekbones as he searches my eyes. “I’m going to keep every promise,” he continues, his voice cracking just a little, the words almost lost beneath the hiss of the shower.
He leans down, pressing his forehead to mine so our noses brush. “I’m going to be patient.” His thumbs keep moving in gentle arcs, wiping away water, or maybe tears, I can’t tell anymore.
“I’ll be here waiting for you, baby.” He says, as his hand slips to the nape of my neck, his fingers thread through my wet hair, holding me close.
My sweet Reed.
“I’m going to be the place you come home to, no matterhow long it takes.” His other arm wraps tighter around my lower back, pulling our bodies flush.
“And when you’re ready…” He pulls back just enough to look at me again, eyes shining, voice dropping to a raw whisper. “…I’ll be right here, exactly where you left me, with open arms…”
He lifts both hands now, palms open toward me, then slowly brings them back to cup my face again. “…and the same stupid heart that’s been yours for years.” His thumbs tremor the tiniest bit against my cheeks.
A quiet, broken laugh escapes him, and he presses his lips to my forehead.
Tears mix with the shower water on my cheeks.
We stand there for a brief moment, holding each other as the warm water begins to cool, but neither of us moves to turn it off.
My forehead rests against his sternum as his arms wrap around me, as if he’s trying to memorize the exact shape of my spine and the exact weight of me against him.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” I admit quietly, my heart whole yet heavy with what’s coming.
He tilts my chin, guiding my gaze back to his. His eyes are warm beneath the shower, and as droplets fall from his lashes, I see so clearly every flicker of pain, love, and resignation in them.
“You haven’t even left yet,” he says, voice low and rough, “and I’m already missing you.”
