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“What did you say?” he asks.
“I told her I understood and apologized for not telling her in the first place.”
“It was my responsibility to tell her. Not yours.” The bed dips slightly as Mack sits beside me, keeping enough space between us to make me wonder where he stands or if he meant the words he said to me in the hospital.
“Yeah, well, apparently, we both kind of failed,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I guess we did.”
“Thanks for bringing me my medicine. The nurse told me it’s why you were at Butter and Grace. The fact you noticed it in the first place was sweet, so…”
“I’d do anything for you, Kate.”
Dammit, Mack!
The words act like a noose around my throat, making it hard to breathe as I dig my nails into my palms.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I whisper.
“Don’t ever apologize for something like that. Ever.” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You hear me?”
“I feel bad. For scaring you.” And I hate how hard the words hit. How often I’ve felt the need to say them. But especially after yesterday. After seeing the fear in his eyes. The blood on his jeans at the hospital. My blood. Another wave of guilt cripples me, leaving me speechless as I hold his gaze.
“Don’t you get it, Kate?” Mack whispers. “You’re worth the risk. Worth the fear. Because every single day I get to spend in your presence is a day worth having. Before you, I was lost. Lost in monotony. Lost in my job. And the gym. And the cabin.”
“You like all those things,” I point out.
“Yeah. But I like them better when I’m with you. I likemebetter when I’m with you.”
“Don’t say those things just because you saw me have a seizure yesterday.”
“I’m not.”
“You sure?” I demand.
“Yeah, Kate.” He smiles, running his thumb against my cheek and dragging his fingers further up to where my stitches are. His concern makes my breath hitch as he examines the damage and meets my eyes again. “I love you. All of you.”
“Even the broken parts?”
He leans closer, carefully touching the back of my neck and pulling me toward him. And I love it. His hands on me. His touch, no matter how innocent it is. It’s addictive. But calming too.
Magic.
With his forehead pressed against mine, he tells me, “It’s like I said, Kate, we all have our shit. I have a meddling ex and two daughters who don’t know what to do with you, and you have a perfect little brain that likes to wig out on occasion.”
He kisses my forehead as if to prove his point, and I laugh, closing my eyes and savoring the feel of his lips on me.
“A perfect little brain that likes to wig out on occasion?” I repeat his words back to him.
“Yeah.”
“That’s what we’re calling it?”
“Uh-huh.”
I roll my eyes, but he kisses me again, cupping the side of my face and brushing his nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss. My lips pull up into a smile as my stomach flip-flops at the innocent contact.
“Love you, Kate Winchester.”
