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“I never told you how much I love your hands on me. Or the way you smile when I say silly things.”
I chuckle.
“Your smell. Your taste.”
Everything about you.
“The way you call me kitten. I love it.”
I shift to curl up next to him, keeping my hand pressed tightly against his wound. His skin is too cold when I press my lips to his bare shoulder. I breathe out as if I can warm it with my breath.
“I never said the right things, or the important ones, the ones I keep to myself because I’m too afraid to let them out. Afraid that if I say them out loud, I’ll lose you, or share you with others.”
I bury my face in his cold and damp neck, trying to catch his scent that’s barely there, overshadowed by the smell of musty seawater.
“I love our breakfasts.”
I stay quiet for a moment, trying to hear his breathing. Heisbreathing.
“I’ve never had a breakfast with a guy. Or two in one morning.”
I chuckle but feel tears well up.
“I miss you when you are not around. It’s hell. It started a long time ago. That’s what made me angry—that we kept our distance, and I couldn’t handle it well. I was angry at myself for feeling that way. Now I’m angry that I never told you those things before. Because I’m a coward.”
I sniffle, swallowing tears.
“I’ll do the upside-down thing, Arch. I promise. First thing. Yeah?” I chuckle through tears. “Just stay with me, baby.”
Archer’s bleeding through the bandage. I can’t lose him. He’s my hero. He shielded Droga. He jeopardized his life for me. This man deserves a fucking medal. And to be happy.
“I love you so much, Archer,” I whisper, my lips so close to his face, and I kiss him, his nose, his eyes, as if I can share my strength with him. “Stay with me, please.”
A barely audible grunt escapes his mouth, then he whispers, “I had to almost die for you to tell me all this?”
I raise my head to see his eyes half-open.
And I laugh through tears and pray. I’m not a religious person, but in the worst moments, we all pray. To something. Someone. For a better outcome. For another chance.
I kiss his face, again and again, letting my tears fall onto him, hoping that we make it to just another day together, even though I want an eternity with him.
60
KAT
Archer isin the medical center, sedated, cleaned up, and all taken care of. He has a through wound—Dr. Hodges’ words bring tears to my eyes.
“Fucker has nine lives, like a cat,” Kai jokes.
Archer is lucky. I am even more so—I have him back. Besides losing a lot of blood, he’ll be fine and will sleep for the next twenty-four hours.
It’s early morning, and I go to my place. Slate follows me and stays at the door. Ayana is still in emergency mode. Security is on high alert. I clean up and change and go back to the medical ward and spend the day and night in Archer’s room.
The next day, I call Dad and give him an update, telling him everything in detail. It’s hard to gauge his reaction, but his jaw is clenched.
“I need to talk to Marlow, Raven, Bishop, and the rest of the team,” he says grimly.
I can’t quite figure out my feelings about what happened in the Ashlands and tell Dad about it.
