“Whether he deserved good things.”
Noah went still.
I continued quietly.
“You worried that success would disappear if you trusted it. You thought I would eventually decide you were too much work.”
“Did you?”
“Never.”
“You must have gotten tired.”
“Of circumstances. Not of you.”
His breathing changed.
“You know what I need before I do.”
“Not always.”
“Today you fed me.”
“You needed food.”
“You kissed me.”
“You requested that clearly.”
“You hold me like I’m not broken.”
My arms tightened around him.
“You are injured. You are not broken.”
He rested more of his weight against me.
“Thank you for staying.”
“Where would I go?”
“Away.”
“No.”
“You could.”
“I could sell the yard and become a monk. Neither is likely.”
A soft laugh escaped me.
I pulled back enough to see him.
“I love you.”
He held my gaze.
The words no longer frightened him.
