Page 173 of Neap & Spring

“Okay.”

“I’ll always come for you.” His eyes are blazing. “Storm or no storm. No matter what happens. No matter how scared you get or how much time you need or how complicated things become — I will always come for you. Always.”

My throat is so tight I can barely swallow past the lump forming.

“You spent years protecting me from my own instincts,” his voice goes softer but no less intense. “Five years carrying something alone because you thought it would destroy me to know. And maybe you were right. I probably would have done something stupid. But Vivi —”

He leans his forehead against mine again.

“You don’t have to protect me anymore,” he whispers. “You don’t have to carry anything alone. Whatever comes next — good or bad or complicated or messy — we face it together. You understand?”

I nod, unable to form any coherent words.

“I need to hear you say it,” he presses gently.

“Together,” I say, my voice breaking finally. “We face it together.”

“Good.” He kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. “Because I’m not letting you go again. Not ever. You’re stuck with me now.”

I laugh, the sound watery. “Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing as close as I can get. “Because I’m not going anywhere. This is it for me, Cal. You’re it for me.”

He makes a sound that’s half laugh, half sob, and buries his face in my neck. I can feel him shaking slightly, the wetness of tears against my skin.

“I love you,” he says, muffled. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” I run my fingers through his hair, holding him close. “So much it scares me sometimes.”

“Good scared or bad scared?”

“Good scared. The scared that comes with having something so precious.”

He lifts his head to look at me, and his smile is so full of so much love.

We sit like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the tiny bathroom while the storm slowly dies outside. His hands are gentle on my back, moving in slow circles. My fingers trace patterns through his damp hair, following the waves. We’re not talking, just breathing together and letting the reality of everything sink in.

The debt is gone. I’m staying.

We’re finally together.

After five years of running and hiding and carrying weight that was never meant to be carried alone — we’re finally here.

I’m finally home.

Eventually, I become aware that the wind has died down. The rain has lessened from a deluge to a steady pour. The worst of the storm is passing.

“We should probably check the damage,” Callum says, but he doesn’t move. His arms stay wrapped around me.

“In a minute.” I tighten my hold on him. “Just one more minute.”

“Okay.” He chuckles and settles back against the bathtub, adjusting me on his lap so I’m more comfortable, and presses a kiss to my temple. “One more minute.”

But it’s more than a minute. It’s ten, then twenty, then we lose track of time entirely, just sitting in the quiet aftermath, holding each other, letting the magnitude of everything wash over us like waves.

“What happens now?” I ask eventually, my voice muffled against his neck.