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His voice had an edge of honesty and pain. Pain I had put there. My eyes welled, and I broke eye contact because I couldn’t keep looking at the pain I had caused. I had hurt him, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever undo that pain.

“I hurt you.” My voice broke and I worked to keep it together. He quietly cleared his throat. I blinked away tears and searched for the right words.

“I knew if I didn’t stay away, I would hurt you more deeply. I thought you would leave me, so I left you first.”

A tear trailed down my cheek, and I wiped it away immediately and turned away, toward the stack of books. I had to calm my racing heart if I was to be able to keep going. I took a shuddering breath as I felt the warmth of his body behind mine. He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t have to. His nearness was my undoing. A sob attempted to escape, but I willed myself not to cry as the back of my throat burned with emotion.

“What are you here for?” he asked and I turned to face him.

“You.”

His hazel eyes searched mine.

“I’m sorry.” My heart raced in my chest. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you for the flowers. They were beautiful. Every text—” I cut off before a sob broke free.

“Sawyer.” One word in his heartbroken voice held multitudes.

“I realized a lot of things lately,” I started, needing the weight off my chest. “I realized that I needed more help. I realized that I would never process things the way other people do. I realized I was going to hurt you. I realized I didn’t want to. I realized I couldn’t keep working in the system that raised me.” I took a deep breath as I continued my list. “I realized I love you, and it scares me to death.” His brows shot up at the last statement. “I know you have no reason to trust me, and I realize I’m not worthy of your love, but I want to try if you’re willing to try with me?” His brow creased.

“Come here.” He held out the hand not supporting his ribs. It was only two feet, but it felt like a trek across the Sahara as I stepped into him.

“You’re wrong.”

My nose burned, but I couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“You are worthy of my love by simply being you.” My breath shuddered and tears threatened.

“I want to love you how you deserve to be loved, but I don’t know how.”

“Then we’ll do the work together. I know things aren’t going to be perfect. We both have more baggage than an airline, but, Pretty Girl, I love you to the absolute core of my soul. I don’t want to live without you. You make every day special because you’re in it, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. Let me love you exactly as you are.” His voice was hoarse by the end of it, and I did what I wanted to from the moment I laid eyes on him. I buried my face against his chest as gently as I could and breathed deep. If home were a person, it would be him. I wanted my home to be him.

His hand came up to hold me, but he winced and I backed away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.” I glanced toward his bruises.

“Can you help me back to the bed so I can hold you?”

We walked slowly to the bedroom, and I adjusted pillows around him where he could lie back as comfortably as possible. He tugged on my hand again, and I laid on top of his comforter and wrapped myself around his arm, too worried to touch his torso. My face pressed to his biceps, breathing him in. I kissed his warm, sun-tanned skin.

“My lips are jealous of my guns.” He smirked. My lips smiled against his skin. I never wanted to be away from him again.

“I love you, Cowboy.” I whispered the words as they still felt foreign, but also oh so right.

“I love you, Pretty Girl.” His thumb rubbed the back of my hand.

“I scheduled therapy again, and I quit my job. I also dyed the potato salad in my lunchbox with a ton of yellow food dye. Greg had bright yellow teeth for three days.” I blurted out a laugh, excited to tell him all the things. Greg was then forced to admit he’d been taking my lunch, saying that it was easier than making his own. He really was the worst. Soren laughed, holding his ribs.

“Atta girl,” he remarked. “How do you feel about all of that?” He was always concerned for me.

“My therapist is wonderful. Would you be okay going to a few sessions with me?” I asked.

“Sounds good. We could meet with George too,” Soren added, linking one of my hands with his. I hadn’t met his sponsor yet, but I wanted to.

“You’d be okay with that?” I asked.

“Anything for my girl,” he assured me, and I knew with certainty, I always wanted to be his.

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