Page 177 of Heal Me, Love Me

My free hand moved to the back of his head, careful and gentle because I was still afraid of touching the wrong spot. “What does?”

“That you’re here.” His fingers stayed tangled with mine. “After everything. After me walking away, after tonight, after you knocked me out in front of half the fucking world, you’re still here, telling me you’ve loved me since we first met.”

“I am.”

“Then I need you to hear me too.” He pulled back enough to see my face. “I love you. I loved you when I climbed through your window because your room was the only place I could breathe. I loved you when you told me to stay, when you kissed me back, and when you made me believe I could be part of someone’s future.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat as he continued.

“I loved you when you left for the Air Force, even though I hated you for leaving. I loved you in LA when I told Devon I was with someone, because even before I said your name, it was you. It was always you.

“I loved you when I signed that contract, and I loved you every second I tried to act like this fight was only professional. I still love you, even though my head hurts and I’m pissed you knocked me out.”

A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. “You’re pissed?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “But I’m more pissed that I let you believe I could ever stop loving you.”

My laugh faded fast because I’d believed that he didn’t love me anymore. Maybe not because I wanted to, and maybe not every second, but when he broke up with me, I’d told myself it had finally happened. He’d found a way to leave us behind.

“I didn’t want to believe that,” I admitted.

His thumb moved against mine. “But you did.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

For once, I let the apology stay there. I didn’t try to fix it or make it easier for either of us.

“I was trying to do the right thing,” he told me.

“I believe you were.”

He didn’t let me look away. “But you don’t know what I was trying to stop.”

“Baby.”

“I wasn’t trying to stop loving you,” his voice dropped. “I was trying to stop us from hurting each other, yet I hurt you anyway.”

Keaton’s forehead returned to my chest, and for a few beats, neither of us said anything as we wrapped our arms around each other. I could feel every uneven breath he took, every second he spent trying to hold himself together.

“You don’t get to decide things for both of us again,” I said.

“I won’t.”

“And I don’t either.”

He tipped his face up. “You mean that?”

“Of course. I’m tired of hurting and being without you.”

He held my stare, searching for something I hoped he found, because I didn’t have a plan or a promise for what came next. California, Florida, the fight, and everything else waiting outside the door were still there, still ready to make this harder, but Keaton was in my arms, and for that moment, I let that be enough.

“I’m still mad at you,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“And my head hurts.”