Page 118 of Rest In Pieces

He doesn’t say anything, and I have a feeling it’s because he’s choked up, even though he’d never admit it. He places his hands over his heart and nods at her before walking out.

The moment the door closes, she turns and looks up at me, her eyes locking on mine before she bursts into tears. “Dammit,” I say, pulling her to me and holding her as tight as my bruised body will allow.

“Cry as hard as you need to, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

And dammit, if that doesn’t make her cry even harder.

I don’t say anything else. I just hold her tighter, even though I hurt like a motherfucker. If I hadn’t already fallen in love with her, this would’ve been the moment I did. People often look for the big things—the moments, the signs—that say they found the one. But love isn’t always loud and flashy. It’s not always logical, and it can leave you questioning your sanity. Sometimes, love sneaks up on you when you’re not looking or when you least expect it.

Pulling back, I wipe my thumb under her eyes to dry her tears. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up a lot today. I hurt you, took stupid risks, and left you exposed. It could’ve all ended before it even started. I can’t do this anymore, Amity.”

The look in her eyes will stay with me for the rest of my life. If I was worried she didn’t feel the same, I’d know the truth now. It’s all right there in her eyes—the fear, the love, the heartbreak, and the hope, all mixed together in that one look.

“No more expiration dates. I don’t want you to leave.”

“But—”

I kiss her softly, cutting off her protests before pulling back. “Stay. When filming ends and everyone else leaves, I want you to stay here with me. I want to see where this goes with us because you’re more than just a fling to me. So much more.”

She searches my eyes for the lie, but she won’t find one. She’s it for me.

“Lay with me?” she asks, her voice soft.

I ease back down, grimacing through the pain. But it’s worth it when she rests her head on my chest, the tips of her fingers tracing the neat row of stitches near my ribs I close my eye, letting the feel of her in my arms soothe me as I brush my fingers up and down her arm.

“Okay, G. I’ll stay,” she says softly, making me freeze. Hoping to hell this isn’t a dream or a side effect of the concussion, I slide my finger under her chin and tilt her head up to look at me.

“You’ll stay?” I ask, and she nods.

“You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She snuggles closer, her hand resting over my heart. “I thought I lost you today, and I can’t go through that again, G. I don’t know if we’ll crash and burn or live happily ever after, but I owe it to us to find out.”

“Thank you.” I kiss the top of her head, wishing I had something more profound to say, but I think I’m still in shock. I figured I’d have more of a fight on my hands.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d be an idiot to walk away from you, and my mama didn’t raise no fool.”

“No, she raised an angel. And I’ll be eternally grateful for that.”

No more words are spoken, and we eventually drift off to sleep, oblivious to the brothers who come in and out to check on us.

I’m woken up early the next morning when Hannibal comes in and nudges me. “Hey man, how you feeling?”

I roll my neck and wince. “Like I got hit by a Mack Truck.”

“It was a pickup truck, but close enough.” He pulls out a small flashlight and shines it in my eyes, making me curse. “Pupils are reactive. How’s the head?”

“Sore, but not as bad as it was.”

“I’ll get you some painkillers. Blade’s called church. Do you think you’re up for it? He said it’s your call.”

“I don’t wanna leave Amity.”

“I’ll wait in the bar for you,” she says, opening her eyes. “Hey, Hannibal.”

“Hey, gorgeous, how are you doing this morning?”

“I’m okay, but my leg’s a little sore.”

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