Page 71 of Madness

There's so much to talk about. But as I hold her, I make a silent promise to her, to myself, to us. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges we face, I'm all in.

Because this - Lauren in my arms, the possibility of a future together - this is worth fighting for.

42

IRIS

LAUREN

We finally pull apart, though I feel the loss of Dakota's warmth immediately. There's an awkward moment where we both just stand there, not quite meeting each other's eyes.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.

Dakota nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I'd like that."

I lead him to the kitchen, hyperaware of his presence behind me. The house suddenly feels different with him in it, like it's holding its breath. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall seems louder than usual, marking each second of this surreal moment.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I offer, then immediately freeze. The half-empty wine glass on the coffee table catches my eye, and guilt washes over me. I quickly move to hide it, my hands shaking slightly. "I mean, I have water, or soda, or..."

"Water would be great," Dakota says softly, and I can hear the understanding in his voice. His eyes follow my movement, but he doesn't comment on the wine.

As I fill a glass at the sink, I can feel Dakota's eyes on me. The cool water over my hands helps ground me, and gives me a moment to collect my thoughts. When I turn back, he's leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense.

"So," I start, handing him the water. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. "How was the tour?"

A smile breaks across his face, genuine and bright. "It was... incredible. Challenging, but incredible."

I nod, thinking of the video I was just watching. "I actually just saw a clip from one of your shows. From a couple weeks ago, I think?"

Dakota's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You were watching our videos?"

I feel a blush creep up my neck. "Yeah, I... I wanted to see how you were doing." I pause, gathering courage. "You looked good up there. Really good. Happy. Focused."

"I am," he says, his voice low and earnest. He sets down his glass and takes a step closer to me. "I've been working hard. Not just on the music, but on myself. On my sobriety."

The word hangs between us, full of weight and promise. I can smell his familiar scent - a mix of soap and something uniquely Dakota. It takes all my willpower not to close the distance between us.

"How long?" I ask, barely above a whisper.

"Thirty-eight days," he replies without hesitation. "Not that I'm counting or anything," he adds with a self-deprecating smile.

I feel tears prick in my eyes. "I'm proud of you, Dakota."

His eyes soften, and he reaches out, his hand hovering near my face as if he wants to wipe away a tear but isn't sure if he's allowed. "I couldn't have done it without thinking of you. Of us."

My heart races at his proximity. There's still so much to discuss, so much uncertainty. The envelope sits on my desk, a ticking time bomb of potential truths. But at this moment, all I can think about is how right it feels to have him here.

"Dakota, I—" I start, but the words catch in my throat. How do I express everything I'm feeling? The pride, the fear, the hope, the love?

He waits patiently, his eyes never leaving mine. In them, I see a reflection of my own emotions - uncertainty, yes, but also determination. And underneath it all, a love that never really went away.

"I missed you," I finally manage, the words feeling inadequate but true.

Dakota's smile is soft, tender. "I missed you too. More than I can say."

As we stand there, my eyes inadvertently drift to my desk in the corner of the living room. The envelope sits there, partially hidden under a stack of nursing textbooks. Dakota follows my gaze, his body tensing slightly as he spots it.

"Is that...?" he asks, his voice trailing off.

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